


i hear you calling to me, then i hear nothing at all

by Victorian_Asylum



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorian_Asylum/pseuds/Victorian_Asylum
Summary: The feeling is fleeting, like a memory you can’t quite conjure. A feeling of loss for someone you don’t know. Or maybe you did.Or,Max and Chloe remember their past lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a simple fic, and then it spiraled out of control.
> 
> I apologize for nothing.

Max stares at her computer screen with bleary eyes, a headache pounding just behind her forehead. She’s been staring at this paper for most of the day and well into the night. She knows she must finish it before the 8 a.m. deadline, but she has hit the wall. Her body protests every click of the keyboard. Words no longer look like words. Instead, the letters on her laptop blur together, a hazy mess that only worsens her growing headache. Max sighs and leans back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes. She glances at the clock, staring at it for a few moments until she can process the neon blue. 2:48 a.m. Max grinds her palms into her eyes once more in a futile attempt to bring some clarity back to them. She’s almost done. She only needs one more page. But words were never her strong suit. This whole process was one long, weekend consuming endeavor.

Outside her window, heavy rain falls, wind lashing it to and fro in unpredictable sheets. Lightning periodically lights up the sky in bursts of purple, followed by wall rattling thunder. It reminds her of home. Max had always imagined that somewhere as rainy as the Pacific Northwest would be a sad and dreary place, but she found comfort and peace in it. Now, so far away, the setting is different but the rain is the same, a soft sort of nostalgia that warms her heart, makes her feel as if she is not quite so alone.

Max reaches for the half empty can of soda to her right, taking a long drink. It’s lukewarm and flat by now, but she’ll take any caffeine she can get for the home stretch. With a languid stretch and a yawn, Max sets to work, banging out that last, insufferable page. The time spent is equal parts typing and stopping for breaks, but a short while after 4:00 a.m, she finally finishes. She smacks the enter key a little too hard as she submits the paper, then powers down her laptop and closes it. The work was unedited and certainly not proofread but Max was too tired to give a damn. She got up from her desk chair, muscles sore and protesting after having spent so long bunched over a computer, and flopped into her bed. Utterly drained, it only took a few minutes for sleep to claim her.

Max doesn’t remember her dream, nor is she even sure she dreamt at all. She awakens with the feeling of another’s hand in hers, resolute, the rumbling of a vehicle barely holding together fresh in her mind. She feels tears on the corners of her eyes, crippled by a sense of loss and guilt so strong it suffocates her. Max sits up in her bed as her alarm screams beside her. She places a hand over her chest, overwhelmed. The feeling eventually subsides enough for her to move. She turns off her alarm, swings her feet over the edge of the mattress and slides off, falling the small gap to the ground. As she goes about her morning routine, getting ready, the feelings linger, and not even the bitterness of her coffee can quite shake them as she waits for the bus outside her dorm.

Classes take the edge off, and soon the feeling fades into the background as Max moves from building to building, focusing on note-taking. When she finishes for the day, she heads to coffee shop on campus for a drink and a snack, and settles into a seat that nestled away towards the back. She pulls out her laptop, sets it on the table, and begins to sift through all the photographs she has taken for an upcoming assignment. Occasionally, her gaze drifts to the world outside the window, catching glimpses of students as they walk past. Max isn’t sure why, but one girl catches her eye as she passed. Her blond hair is drawn up into a messy bun, messenger bag slung across one shoulder. She is laughing and talking with a small group of people, pushing up the sleeves of her jackets as they walk. For a moment, Max swears the girl hair is blue. Something tugs at her heart, as if they’ve met before, somehow, somewhere, then she blinks, and the girl continues on, hair still blond. 

Max shakes her head. Staying up that late was messing with her head. Maybe she had class with the girl, but she didn’t know her. She looked like half the girls on campus. 

When Max finishes her drink, she doubles back for the strongest brew they have been in the biggest size. She spends the rest of the afternoon focused on her work as best she can do in an effort to distract herself. Before she knows it, it’s nearly ten. Determined to not repeat last night, she packs up her stuff and heads back to her dorm. On her way, she bumps into her friend Kate, who lives a few doors down the hall from her. “Hey Kate, how’ve you been?”

Kate smiles softly. “I’ve been doing well. How have you been? You seem tired.”

Max chuckles at that. “Yeah. I had to rush to finish a paper last night. I’ve been feeling super out of it ever since though.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s kinda like perpetual deja vu for something that’s never actually happened. But I don’t know what that something is. There was this girl I saw today, no idea who she is but I felt drawn to her. Like I knew her.”

Kate frowns, holding open the door for Max as they enter the dorm stairwell and begin to climb. “Perhaps she looks like someone in a dream of yours?”

“I don’t know. It’s throwing me off in a major way. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost something important to me and that I know that girl.” Max drinks from her cup, the coffee exceptionally bitter on her tongue.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Max.” They arrive at Kate dorm first, and she puts a hand on Max’s shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, please, don’t hesitate. I’m always here.”

“Thanks. I just might take you up on that,” Max says. “See you around.”

“Goodnight Max,” Kate says, before walking into her dorm and closing the door.

Max walks back to her room and unlocks to door, slipping inside. It’s dark and quiet. Her roommate is still off doing her own thing, which works just fine. Max sets her stuff down near her desk and takes a deep breath in. She feels as if she has been hit by cruiseliner, sucked in by the propellers and spit back out again. The whole day had such a strange, hazy quality to it that Max is half convinced she is still dreaming. Too tired to care, coming down from her coffee induced buzz, she crawls into bed still clothed. It takes an hour of tossing and turning to fully fall asleep and when she does, she feels wind and rain, a sound akin to a freight train deafening her. That same warmth settles into her hand. When she awakens, she feels helplessness and despair, and an undercurrent of relief. Max is freezing cold, goosebumps all across her skin, hair standing on end.

After a short time, her body acclimates to the temperature of the room, and the feeling of being soaked to the bone dissipates. When Max looks at the clock, it’s only 5:30 in the morning, far too early for her alarm, yet she feels wired, electrified by her dream. She knows she won't be able to get that last bit of sleep, and the cafeteria isn’t open yet. So she does the sensible thing, and begins to research dreams. The results are equal parts psychology, pseudoscience, and superstition. Its difficult to make any progress because she never remembers her dreams, she is only left with the feeling of being there and the emotions of whatever happened. The only recurrent aspect is that someone seems to be there with her. In all honesty, she feels a little silly, typing in things like “What do dreams mean?” and “Can’t remember dream?” and “Dreams that make you feel things?”. In the end, she finds nothing useful, and chalks the dreams up to be stress induced occurrences. Or maybe all the time she’s spent this semester in American Lit has her subconscious reading too far into things.

With some extra time to kill, Max takes a shower, using the small moment to clear her head and shake off the lingering feelings from the dream. The bathrooms are descently the empty, a handful of girl inside. Most of them appear to be student athletes, washing up after lifting. It doesn’t take Max long to shower, as she isn’t there to shave or wash her hair. A few minutes later, she finishes up and shuts off the water, toweling off her body before throwing her clothes on. As she exits the bathroom she nearly runs right into someone. “Sorry,” she says quickly, shuffling to the side and glancing at the person.

It’s the same girl from before, although she is wearing her hair down today. Max’s heart performs an uncomfortable somersault in her chest. An overwhelming urge to reach out and grab the girl by the hand bubbles up and her fingers twitch with the need before Max blinks as the girl smiles, says “Oh sorry, didn’t see you. Excuse me.” and moves past her into the bathroom. Max is left standing just outside the door, an unpleasant sensation settling in the pit of her stomach. What has gotten into her?

Max makes a beeline for her room before that girl can appear again and shuts the door, perhaps a bit too loudly, leaning back against the cheap, battered wood. Is this how the rest of the semester is going to be? The campus is huge, so why does she keep running into that girl? The obvious answer is that the girl lives on this floor, which is just… fantastic. That means another encounter is likely. With a groan, Max pushes herself off the door and grabs her bag, heading swiftly downstairs to catch the bus before she misses it, pulling her hood up over her head as she notices the light rain outside.

Class passes in a blur, lectures fusing together into one long, singular stream of words and PowerPoints that Max can only half focus on. Then suddenly it’s as if she blinks and classes are over and she’s one of the last people left in the lecture hall. She quickly gathers her things, stuffs the notebook with the empty pages into her backpack and shuffles out. Half a million things run through her mind. Max honestly feels a bit stupid, letting dreams get to her so much. She can’t even place why they get under her skin so much. She doesn’t remember them. But she remembers the feelings, the emotions, and those linger inside her, hanging like a heavy fog inside her mind. They were so real, so visceral, magnified a hundred fold.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to shake this until she got to the bottom of it. So Max went to the library. She often went there to study or hang out, tucked safely away in her cubicle, where she can quietly sort through mountains of photographs or look longingly at the latest and greatest cameras she can’t afford.

With a little help from the front desk, she finds the section she was looking for, walking three floors up. Max starts at the beginning of the topic, scanning the titles for anything that caught her eye, pulling out books the piqued her interest and skimming through the summaries. She finds a few that appear to cover what she is looking for, and she adds them to the small pile forming in the middle of the aisle.

“Got a research paper?”

Max jumps, whipping around to face the voice that suddenly appeared to her left. Her eyes widen in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” It was that girl. Of course it was that girl. There she stood, half a head taller than Max, looking a bit sheepish about the entrance she had made. 

“It’s- you’re fine. I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Max’s heart was still racing, a combination of the shock of someone’s sudden apparition and the surprise of it being the only person on campus she was probably actively avoiding. She blinks a couple of times, processing the initial start of the conversation. “Sorry, uh, no. I don’t have a research paper, I mean.” She glances down at the pile of books on the floor. “It’s… personal interest.”

The girls eyes follow hers, one eyebrow raising as she scims the titles on the spine. “Well, looks like we might be after the same thing.”

“Do you have a paper over this? I-I can let you have them, it’s not important that I read them now.”

The girl smiles, wide and toothy. It’s a pleasant smile, one that puts Max a little more at ease. It’s familiar. “No, no paper. Not my major. It’s actually personal interest as well.”

“Oh, well.” Max rubs at her arm, looking anywhere but at the girl.

“Can I say something strange?” The girl asks, turning her head slightly as she looked at Max.

“I mean, I guess.” What could be stranger than the series of events that have transpired these last two days? College was turning out to be one hell of a trip, so why the hell not.

“I felt compelled to talk to you. I was up here looking for dream stuff and I saw you. I was going to let you be but something drew me to you. Is that weird?”

Yes. Yes it is. But something is drawing Max to this girl too, some strange force pulling them together like magnets just barely caught in each other’s field. Max felt something indescribable towards this girl. Maybe it was because she was sleep deprived, maybe it was because she felt so off kilter. Whatever it was, it made Max’s normal flight response to social situations disappear. She wanted to know why this girl felt so familiar. “Kind of. But I sorta feel the same way.”

The girl laughs, a little breathlessly, as if she had been expecting Max to berate her and send her away. “Chloe Price, at your service.” The girl extends a hand.

“Max Caulfield.” She reaches out and takes the girls hand and for a moment the pair of them are tethered, electric currents on the tips of their fingers. Max looks into the other girl’s eyes and for a moment, she can swear she sees something swimming in them, some kind of memory passing beneath the retina and Max feels as if her own eyes look the same. She feels something tugging at the back of her head, as if a fist is softly knocking on a door, waiting for it to open. The moment passes and they release each other’s hands. If Chloe felt how strange that was, she made no mention of it.

“So, dreams huh? Here I thought I was the only one with the strangest fucking sleep.” The girl - Chloe - shoves her hands in the front pockets of her jeans, old and distressed but still holding on. “Maybe it’s the potheads, the ones in 513? You’re on my floor right?”

“505,” Max answers.

“521. Anyway, they’ve been fucking, like, terraforming the planet with how much they’re smoking. Think that secondhand high is the culprit?”

Max shrugs her shoulders. She’s never done drugs, only had alcohol a handful of times. She was a boring, straight laced student who kept to herself and took photographs. She really wouldn’t know, but if other people’s drug habits were causing that much of an issue, she imagined the RA would deal with it.

“Nah, you’re right. This doesn’t happen when you’re stoned.” At the quizzical look Max gives her, Chloe continues, “Trust me. I know.” She tosses a wink her way. “SoCal gal right here.”

That seemed a little stereotypical, but who was Max to judge. Up until college, most of the people she interacted with had been from her city, born and raised, just like her. Now she was miles away, surrounded by people from different states and countries. It was just one more learning opportunity, she imagines. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Chloe frowns, eyebrows knitting together. She folds one arm below her ribs, rests the elbow of her other arm atop it, resting her hand over her mouth. “Okay, that hypothesis is out.”

Max has nothing for her. There is a reason science is one of her weakest subjects. She never had a drive to understand the machinations of the world. She merely wanted to capture the beauties. It did not matter to her why things were the way they were, only how she could capture those things which she found worth preserving. She shrugs her shoulders helplessly. Psychology was not her forte. If it were, she likely wouldn't be fumbling around the library the way she currently was.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a mystery on our hands.” Chloe’s eyes were alight with passion, seemingly filled to the brim with excitement at the prospect of having a quest to follow, an answer to chase. Something she could use her scientific wiles to solve. She was determined. “We’re in this together. You gonna be my partner in time?”

“Only if you’ll be my partner in crime.”

The pair stares at each other, eyes locked. There is a moment of mutual realization. Those words were foreign, but rolled off their tongues so easily. It calls back to something, somewhere, a moment that is not theirs, a connection they do not have. Max’s heart feels inexplicably heavy at those words. Why? Why did she feel this way?

Chloe blinks, dropping her arms and looking away, confused. “That is… not what I meant to say. That was weird. What I meant was, will you be my partner in crime in this endeavor?”

“Yeah,” Max says, rocking nervously back and forth on the balls of her feet. What in the world was going on? “That sounds fun.”

Chloe smiles, a little forced, and checks her watch. “Awesome. Well, I’ve got a study date.” She pauses, swings her backpack off her shoulder and in front of her, rooting around for a second before pulling out a half crumpled piece of paper. She tore off a small section, searched around for a pen and when she found one, she wrote on the paper, handing it over to Max. “Here’s my number. Hit me up whenever. You know my room number to, so don’t be shy. My roommate is chill, so don’t worry.”

Max stares at the paper blankly, not quite registering what is going on.

Chloe offers her a nod and a quick salute. “I’ll catch you around Max,” she says, before turning around and leaving.

It is an embarrassing amount of time until Max’s brain finally processes the event that have just unfolded, eventually it is able to devote brain power to other, normal functions, like moving and basic cognition. Max looks down at the scrap of paper, idly notes that Chloe has very pretty penmanship. Max doesn’t know why she agreed to meet up again or to try to solve this ‘mystery’. Really, she wanted nothing to do with the mysterious girl. Well, no, that is an awfully harsh way of putting it. She preferred to not get involved with her would be a better way of phrasing it. Something weird is going on, and Max does not understand it, and she certainly wants no part of it. She simply wants things to return to normal. Now, however, she has a sinking feeling they won’t. Though with an extra brain in the mix, maybe they’ll finally get some answers. Perhaps, they may even fix this whole situation. 

Still, some unknown force compelled her to get involved with Chloe. It was as if Max was not herself, like something or someone else was going through those actions, saying those words, calling upon a personal relationship that did not exist. Quite frankly, it was off putting. In a basic sense, it was kind of nice to be able to interact so freely with someone, to not feel so weighed down by anxieties. On a grander scheme, it settled like a light wave of nausea over Max. Why did she feel as if she knew this person?

Thoroughly offput, Max puts the slip of paper in her back pocket, gathers up what books she has and quickly heads downstairs to check them out. She hauls it back to the dorms and immediately goes to Kate’s room, knocking rapidly on the door. After a few seconds, it opens, and Kate stands there in her pajamas. Behind her, a desk lamp is on, illuminating an open, bookmarked bible with multicolored highlights. Kate smiles softly at her, looking slightly worried about the panicked expression on Max’s face.

“Hey, can we talk?” Max asks, shifting from foot to foot.

“Of course, come in.” Kate steps aside to let Max in and shuts the door behind her. “Take a seat anywhere you like. Would you like anything to drink?”

“Oh, uh, water is fine.” Max looks around briefly before deciding the hop onto Kate’s bed. She sets her backpack down beside her, overblown as it is with too many books.

Kate grabs a small bottle of water from the shared mini fridge between her and her roomates desk. She hands it to Max, who takes it and thanks her, and moves the sit next to Max on the bed. She moves her pillow out of the way and shuffled back until she is resting against the wall, facing Max’s left side. “What’s on your mind?”

“I met her. The girl I was talking about the other day, the one I didn’t know but felt like I did.”

Kate’s eyes widen slightly. “Do you know her?”

Max shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“Did she know you?” Kate asks.

“No.” Max runs her thumb across the water bottle cap, drawing absent minded circles. 

“Hmm. That’s really strange. You just happened to bump into her?”

Max frowns, scrunching up her eyebrows. “Okay, this is where it gets really strange. Hear me out.” She glanced at Kate, who is looking at her, attentive and curious, ready to help. “Lately, I’ve been having these weird dreams. Like, I don’t remember them, but when I wake up I feel the emotions of them like it actually happened. It’s seriously trippy. So I went to the library today to see if I could find some books that might help me. And that girl was there, looking for books on dreams too.”

“That’s… very strange, Max.” Kate says, thankfully not looking at her like she’s crazy. She looks more uncomfortable than anything, like she’s seen a ghost.

“She’s not even a psych major!” Max tossed up a hand hopelessly, waving it around as of it might make the world return to sanity. “And do you know what she said to me?”

Kate is on the edge of her seat, waiting for the next piece of the puzzle. “What?”

“She felt drawn to me. That’s why she approached me.”

“Max, that’s really spooky. How are you feeling?”

Max leans back against the wall with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Like I’m losing my mind? But I know this is gonna bug me until I get to the bottom of it. I have to talk to her again.”

Kate leans forward, placing a hand on Max’s arm. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Kate smiles that kind, knowing smile, the soft one reserved for friends that makes you feel, even if only for a moment, that everything is okay. “Max I believe there are forces in the world we do not and likely cannot understand.”

“I’m glad someone is on my side.” Max glanced at the clock. “Yikes. It’s really late, I should let you get some sleep.” She hops down off the bed. “Thanks for this. I needed to get it off my chest.”

“Not a problem, Max. I’m happy to help any way I can.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Max says as she heads out the door, waving goodbye. She makes her way down the hall to her room, opening the door to a none too surprising empty and dark place. She flipped on the light and goes to her desk, pulling out her laptop. There are a few minor assignments and reading she needs to do. The assignments she manages over the next hour a half, but she can’t bring herself to read. The day has been so much of a mindfuck she can hardly focus. Plus, to reading material is dense enough to stop a bullet.

Max shuts off her laptop and changes into pajamas, turning off all the lights and crawling into bed. She browses around on her phone for a while, tempted to talk to Chloe, see if that number really was hers. But the last thing she wants right now is to the think about that girl, so she shuts off her phone and settles down, closing her eyes and trying her best to clear her mind, forcing sleep to come. At some point, after a black limbo of half wakefulness, she fades from this world. For the first time since this began, she does not feel someone beside her. She is alone. Cold. Her wrists ache, muscles tense. Something is not right. She should not be where she is.

She awakens with a start, sheer terror coursing through her veins. Max fumbles for the reading lamp by her desk, heart in her throat, and turns it on with shaking hands. She turns her hands this way and that way, desperate the make sure her arms are free. They are. She looks around, chest heaving with labored breaths. It takes a moment to truly anchor herself in this moment. Max has never felt such a profound sense of horror in her entire life. She laughs, more out of nervous buzz than anything. “What the fuck?”

Max tries to calm her breathing. She has never been alone in the dreams before. There has always been the presence of someone there with her. The absence was almost as disconcerting as the feeling of fear that pulsed through her veins. She had though her dreams related, but perhaps they weren’t after all. Was this the result of the past few days getting to her? None of it makes any sense, and quite honestly, she is getting tired of these dreams. Why can’t everything return to normal so she can get some peace of mind?

After her breathing and heart rate slow, Max leans over towards her phone, stopping for a few seconds before making a decision. She jumps out of bed and rummages around for her jeans, reaching into the pocket and pulling out the slip of paper with Chloe’s number on it. She adds it to her contact list and texts her: _wanna meet up sometime for coffee?_

Max is going to get to the bottom of this, introverted nature be damned.

She doesn’t expect a response. It’s early. Way too early for a college student to be up. Still on edge, Max carefully sets her phone down and shuts off the light, leaning back slowly until her head hit the pillows. She knew sleep was a long shot, but she has nothing else to do. Max lays in her bed until her alarm goes off, drifting in an out of consciousness, never fully falling back asleep, only into some blessedly dreamless void.

She goes about her day much the same as the last, feeling more like a zombie than anything resembling a human being. Halfway through her afternoon class, her phone buzzed in her pocket, nearly sending her jumping out of her skin. Max pulls it out and looks at the screen. It’s a message from Chloe: _totally! im free at like, 8._

_:) great, works for me!_ Max responds. A few seconds later, she gets; _ew emojis. for shame._

The response makes Max truly smile for the first time that week.

The possibility of getting answers and the thought of actually having to talk to this girl sends nervous energy zipping through Max’s body. She feels electrified, wired, restless. After class while she waits, she does laundry, cleans her room, even makes her bed, doing anything she can to dissipate the energy. When that doesn’t work, she walks around campus taking pictures. That’s helps a bit, gives her something to focus on and calms her down. She passes the rest of the afternoon like that, stops at the mess hall for dinner, goes back out for more photos while there is still light. After, Max heads to the coffee shop, getting there an hour early, and decides to crack open one of the dream books she had checked out. It’s a chore to get through, overly scientific and dry, chock full of mumbo jumbo Max can’t even begin to decipher without google. 

Ten minutes past 8, Max gets a little worried. 15, she begins to think Chloe blew her off. 30, and she’s convinced, but she stays anyway. 45 minutes late, Chloe bursts through the door, looking around. When she spots Max, she rushes over, a toothy grin on her face. She is out of breath. “Shit I am so sorry. Do not ever let the chemistry kids get a hold of you. They can and will hold you hostage.”

The words catch Max off guard and she can’t help but laugh a little. She wanted to be mad at the situation, but something about seeing Chloe melts all the anger in an instant. “It’s alright,” she says.

“You have the patience of the pope. Bless you.” Chloe slides her backpack off her shoulders and onto the nearest seat. “I’ll treat you to anything you want as an apology.”

“I’m feeling rather magnanimous, so apology accepted. I’ll take an americano.”

“You sure you’re not feeling maxnanimous?” Chloe says, waggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t push your luck, you vagabond.”

Chloe laughs, fullbellied and raucous. It’s charming and inelegant and Max wants to hear it again. She leaves Max alone to go stand in line, ordering the drinks and waiting the short time it took to make them. She returns, setting a large cup in front of Max before taking a seat across from her. Her hair is back in a messy bun, strands of blond falling down around her face. She look tired but happy nonetheless. “So, why the date out of the blue?”

Max’s face flushes and she coughs and sputters for a moment. “It’s not- I didn’t- I mean-“

“Hey, hey, I was just teasing. But I am curious, why’d you text at such a weird hour?”

Max chews the inside of her cheek, looking down at the table. She had been so sure before, spurred by too many sleepless nights and a nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Now, face to face with someone, the idea of trying to explain… any of it, even to the person connected to it, seemed daunting. So much could go wrong. She could make a fool of herself. Get laughed at. Humiliated. Max’s hands ball into fist beneath the table, resting atop her thighs. Maybe this was a mistake.

Chloe reaches across the table as if to touch her, then thinks better of it, leaving it midway between them. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Oh, I haven’t been sleeping well,” Max says, which isn’t a lie but it deflects the question and gives her time to think.

Chloe face softens, a look of understanding dawning. “Weird dreams?”

Max’s gaze shoots up and she locks eyes with Chloe, shocked. “Wha- what do you mean?”

“Well, you were checking out a lot of books on dreams. I took an educated guess.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Max shrinks back. God, she probably looks like such a weirdo right now. Of course it would have been easy to put two and two together. She breaks away from Chloe’s earnest gaze, looking at the table instead. “I guess so. They’re just like- I don’t even know. They keep waking me up.”

That was vague. That wasn’t weird. She could keep this level, keep it from spiraling out of control. She could be normal. Get out of here without making a total joke of herself and call it a wash.

Chloe leans back, expression unchanging. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve been having the kind of dreams where I’m me, but I’m not me-me, y’know? I’m different, doing different things, but the people are all people I know. It’s strange. They all seem to be concurrent, connected.” Chloe’s eyebrows scrunch slightly as she ponders. “That’s why I was in the library too. I was curious. I’ve never had recurring dreams before.”

Max perks up at this. Maybe she wouldn’t look so strange after all. “That’s odd. What happens in the dreams?”

“I don’t really know. They’re all so… disjointed. I just always have the sense of purpose, like I’m on a mission, but also like I’m always on the verge of something terrible happening. They’re always so visceral. They linger.”

Max blinks as she takes this in. So at least she wasn’t crazy. Someone else was having out of place dreams. That puts her at ease somewhat, but that also complicates things. Does that mean she isn’t imagining that subtle pull towards Chloe. Does Chloe feel like she knows her? She takes a long drink of her americano, wincing slightly as it travels down her throat, not scalding, but still too hot. 

“My natural curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to do some research. And I ended up meeting you.” Chloe features relax into an easy smile, bright as the street lamps outside.

Max blushes and stammers our a response that earns a chuckle from Chloe. They get to talking about other things, far more mundane, slipping into a comfortable rhythm that would have caught Max off guard if it hadn’t felt so normal. Hours pass and they eventually get kicked out of the cafe when it closes for the night. They continue talking on the way back to the dorm, leading up to the fifth floor. They arrive at Max’s dorm first, but before they can part ways, Max notices the telltale sock on the door. “Are you cereal?” She says. Her roommate has barely spent more than a combined week in her dorm and the one time she decides to, she brings a +1?

“Ooh, rough night.” Chloe says. “You can crash at my place if you don’t wanna do the classic hall sit. We have a futon. And I’m pretty sure my roommate is out of state right now.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how long this’ll be, so I think I might take you up on that offer.”

“Rock on girl, follow me.” Chloe leads her further down the hall to her dorm, opening up the door and flipping on the light. The room is split down the middle, and one half home to a slew of electronics and a bed decorated in black and pink. The other half is disorganized, mismatched plaid sheets and a gray comforter and discarded clothes everywhere. “It’s a bit of a mess. Set your shit down wherever.” Chloe drops her back off beside her bed, pushing aside shirts and pants to reveal a blanket, which she tugs off her bed and tosses onto the futon, along with a pillow.

Max sets her backpack beside the futon and sits down, gingerly, keenly aware that she is a stranger in a strange place. It doesn’t make her feel nearly as bad for the disarray of her room. She pulls out her phone and sets a new alarm a little early, so she can go back and hopefully change, assuming her roommates’s date has taken a walk of shame back where they belong. After, she takes off her shoes and places them by her backpack while Chloe gathers armfuls of clothes and shoves them into a hamper at the foot of her bed, rapid fire cleaning that is more of a bandaid on the problem, but a sweet gesture none the less.

“You usually get left high and dry like this?” Chloe asks as she works.

“No. She’s usually not there. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Of course! You’re always welcome here. Can’t leave a girl sitting in that grimy hallway for god knows how long.” Chloe finishes her quest of cleaning and slips out of her shoes, kicking them aside. She moves to the closet, skimming through and pulling out a pair of shorts. As she begins to shimmy out of her jeans, Max quickly looks away. A few moments later, Chloe has changed into the shorts and a plain tank top. She hops up onto the bed. “Well, I had blast, but I got an early morning ahead of me. We’ll have to continue this chat another time, promise?”

“Cross my heart. Goodnight, Chloe.”

“Night Max.”

The lights switch off, leaving Max in the dark as her eyes adjusted. She grabs the pillow and puts it on one side, pulling the blankets up and over herself as she lays down. It takes a while to fall asleep. She feels strange being in the room of someone she hardly knows, and someone connected to this weirdness on top of it all. Eventually, though, sleep finds her. She wakes up groggy, sluggish, a welling sense of panic choking her that she felt too slow to act upon, a sound like thunder ringing in her ears. Her limbs feels heavy, chest tight, horror and disgust buried just below her panic. She looks around, blinking slowly, rubbing at her neck, where a small section burned with radiating pain. She sees Chloe, sitting up in bed, clutching her head.

“Chloe?” Max asks, tongue heavy, words slurred. What the fuck happened in her dream?

“God, fuck, ow,” Chloe hisses out. “Max did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“No, no, my dream woke me, are you okay?” Max sits up, worried.

“I’m fine I just - son of a bitch!” Chloe inhales and exhales heavily. “I was startled awake in the middle of the night with this searing pain in my forehead. I think I died in my dream. Got fucking-“ She clenches her hands and leans forward “- I don’t know shot or something and woke up with a pain where the bullet went.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s starting to recede. God damn.” A hand leaves Chloe’s face, then two. A lamp flips on, and bathes her in dim orange light, illuminating messy hair and scrunched up eyes, forehead red from where she has pressed in. “Holy hell.”

“Is that what your dreams are like?”

“Sort of. I’ve never died before. Or had that happen before.”

Max rubs at her neck. “I know what you mean. I feel like someone stabbed me in the neck with a needle. It burns so bad.”

“What a fucking trip. I was in like, a junkyard or something in the middle of the night with this girl, I have no idea what we were doing and then bam! I wake up with skull splitting pain.”

Max frowns, racking her brain for any scraps of information on her dreams, cursing the fact she can’t ever seem to remember. “I don’t know what happened, I just had that pain, felt like I got drugged almost, is the best way I can describe.” She closes her eyes. The feelings were vivid, clinging like cobwebs. Why couldn’t she attach any images to them? “There was a…” Max stops, eyes flying open. No, it couldn’t. She was imagining it, trying to fill in details with Chloe’s story.

“A what?” Chloe asks, curious.

“A gut shot.”

Chloe’s eyes widen. “No way. What are the odds?”

“Maybe it's a coincidence?”

“Or maybe… Hang on, the dream before this, what do you remember?”

“Um, I think I was restrained somehow? I don’t remember, I just woke up with my wrists really sore feeling very scared. This was… last night?”

“Hmm, okay. That night I didn’t dream of anything. Before that?”

“Rain. Freezing rain. Wind. Someone was with me. Someone is almost alway with me. I felt…” She tried to remember. “Crushing guilt.”

An unknown look passes over Chloe face. “That night I was with someone too. There was this massive storm about to destroy some seaside town. We were watching it happen.”

Pieces start to line up in Max’s mind like gears in a machine, starting to turn. “Very first night it happened, I was with someone, holding their hand. I think in a car. I felt awful, emotionally, but also relieved.”

Chloe looks at her. “Monday night I dreamed I was with someone, driving through a torn up town. I think it was that town from the storm.” She rubs at her forehead. “Have we… have we been dreaming about the same things?”

“We couldn’t be, could we?” Max could feel her heart in her throat, beating fast. The rising adrenaline pushes back the grogginess of before. “That’s not possible.”

Surely there was some kind of mistake. People don’t dream about the exact same things, right? That's the stuff of fiction. Of plot points and silly romances and earth shattering revelations. That wasn’t two strangers in a college dormitory. One of them must have gotten something wrong, or was extrapolating facts that simply weren't there.

Chloe looks like someone handed her mathematical calculations that prove gravity isn’t real. Her eyebrows have knit together. She seems confused, like her mind is traveling a thousand miles a second as it tries to process and rationalize this. “I… honestly don’t know what’s going on.” She inhales, long and slow, grounding herself, and exhales just the same. A different look comes across her face, one of determination, excitement. The face of someone presented with a challenge. “But I intend to find out.”

Max honestly doesn't know what she prefers: to have been alone and crazy in this, or to have something much bigger going on. She had wanted to get to the bottom of this, but the answer seems stranger than she could imagine. Should she have kept this to herself and let it pass? Could she drop all of this and leave? No. She knows herself. She is better than that. Chloe needs help and she promised that. Max isn’t about to abandon her. “Well,” she begins, her voice small and hesitant, “I’m here to help, whatever you need.”

Chloe gives her a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” She touches her forehead, as if expecting to find a hole there, but isn’t surprised when she pulls away to find no blood. Not even a trace of what had previously felt so real. She gives a little laugh. “I’ll tell you what Max. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I think freshman year got a lot wilder.”

“You could say that again.” The room falls into momentary silence, a contemplative sort of quiet as the pair of them let the night’s events wash over them. Then Max’s alarm goes off on her phone, blasting the X-Files theme at full volume and Max can feel the laughter bubbling up inside at the sheer absurdity of it all. So she laughs and Chloe joins her, until there are tears in her eyes and her ribs ache and someone next door bangs on the wall, yelling obscenities across the thin drywall. Max covers her mouth in a poor attempt to control it, but one look at Chloe and she’s wheezing all over again. It takes a moment to collect herself and shut off her alarm, longer to eventually get up and gather her things.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Max says, swinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Happy to help. Thanks for not making me feel crazy.”

Max smiles at her. The feelings was definitely mutual. She offers a small wave and heads out the door, down the hall to her room. She opens the door quietly, unsure of what she’ll find. To her relief, she sees only one form fast asleep in her roommates bed, tangled up in sheets. Max changes as quietly as she can, gathering her things for the coming class, and heading back out the door. She has some time to kill so she goes to the dining hall and has a small breakfast, enjoying the relative peace and quiet. If she were being honest, her head hasn’t spun this much since calculus senior year. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas. She isn’t entirely sure this all is real. Maybe she’s been dreaming this whole time? Pinching herself seems a bit too childish, and she doesn’t know how she would react if she actually did wake up in her own bed that Sunday night again.

Still, in spite of it all, Max has a semester to survive, so she does her best to keep the events on a backburner, and tune into class. For the most part it works, as she is able to keep her head above water. Days turn into weeks, then months. Max has a few more dreams, all vague and incomprehensible, with palpable feelings attached, and Chloe continues to dream the same thing, although more coherent. Then they start to repeat, in the same order, every week. Max has spent most of her free time with Chloe, trying to make sense of it all, but so far, neither of them have been able to come up with an explanation. The semester passes, and they go into winter break empty handed. Max heads back to Seattle for break, but keeps in touch with Chloe, much to her parents delight. Max thought it would be easier to forget about the dreams, surrounded by family and old friends, but the idea that miles away, Chloe is experiencing the same things, keeps her up at night, gnawing at the back of her mind.  
Chloe herself is another matter entirely, usually on Max’s mind for other reasons as well. Beautiful, smart, witty Chloe. The feeling of having known her for a lifetime only grows stronger with each passing day, and it makes for a quick, easy friendship that neither of them really question. It felt so natural to be around each other that Max often forgets she still hardly knows anything about the girl. But she wants to. She wants to know more about Chloe, wants to spend lazy days watching shitty T.V. Wants to talk about the deep as well as the inconsequential. She wants to do so many things that she begins to realize that some of them may be in more than just the name of friendship. And that is another matter entirely that she chooses not to think about.

Max starts spring semester weary and on edge, slowly worn down by the constant, repetitive dreams. A few days in, she sits in her environmental science class, much to her dismay, focusing on everything but the lecture. Her professor is going on and on about freak natural occurrences, and Max is counting down the minutes until she is free. If the dreams don’t kill her, this class just might, gen eds be damned. Max pretends to follow along, but she searches photography blogs, looking wistfully at all the places these people get to visit and capture.

“...this is Arcadia Bay.” Her professor says, and something in the name catches Max’s attention, causing her to look up. “Once a quaint little coastal town, it was destroyed by an unprecedented and completely unpredicted storm.”

Max stares at the screen the slide show in being presented on, at the old, grainy photo of a town flattened by the storm, every building torn to shreds. The longer she stares, the more focused she becomes, and the professor’s voice, the rustling of bags, the clicking of keyboards, it all fades away, replaced by the steadily growing din of wind and rain whipping to and fro, a sound akin to a freight train bearing down. Max swears she can feel water on her skin, see the photo come to life. Then a white hot surge of pain shoots through her skull, threatening to split it in two and Max grabs at the sides of her head, scrunching her eyes shut. The wind comes to a crescendo and Max swears its going to tear her eardrums apart and then- silence. Followed by ringing, soft voices, then the same voices, a bit louder. Max feels a hand being tentatively placed on her shoulder.

She opens her eyes, slowly, convinced she’ll find the lecture hall torn to pieces. She doesn’t. Instead, she opens her eyes to find herself staring at her thighs, drops of blood staining her jeans. It takes a few moments more to realize the blood is dripping from her nose. Max wads up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and presses it to her nose, before turning to look at the person who’s hand is on her shoulder. She doesn’t know the man, but he is looking at her with concern in his eyes. “You good?” he asks. 

“I - I don’t think so. I need to step outside.” Max gathers her things and swiftly exits. She heads to the bathroom, and when she pulls away, the bleeding has already stopped. She cleans off her face, does her best to dab away blood from her sleeve. When she exits the bathroom, she isn’t sure what to do, and she stands outside, dazed and confused and unsure of what to do. She looks back and forth for several minutes, before pulling out her phone and calling Chloe.

The phone rings for a few moments, before Chloe picks up. “Max? ‘Sup?”

“Are you free?”

“Not at the moment, got class in a few minutes. You sound panicked, what’s up?”

“I, god I don’t even know where to start.” Max’s brain is still scrambled. She can’t feel any pain, but it’s as if a door has been closed on a portion of her mind and she knows something important is behind it. She knows it is. “Shit, okay- Arcadia Bay!” She finally blurts out.

The line is silent for several heartbeats and Max can feel panic rising in her chest before Chloe responds. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Do you know it?”

“I… I don’t know. I know I haven’t, but it feels so familiar.” 

“Yes! Okay, it’s not just me.” Max can feel the relief wash over her, pushing down the panic that threatened to swallow her whole. With that, she also feels a surge of adrenaline at the idea that she may have found a clue to their predicament. “When are you free? I need to talk to you as soon as possible.”

“4? I should be able to make that work.”

“Great, meet me outside the library.” After getting confirmation on Chloe’s end, Max hangs up. She feels a bit better after talking to someone. What she really needs is to fully vent, but that will come later. Right now, she really needs to lie down, so she makes her way back to the dorm, collapsing onto her bed once she gets inside her room. She feels like a mess, entirely exhausted but completely wired. The dreams were one things, but this was something else entirely, more akin to a memory on the verge of being recovered. What was that headache? Where did the nosebleed come from? Max isn’t sure if it was related, or if she had a serious health crisis coming her way. 

If Chloe had the same reaction, does that mean it’s connected to all this somehow? Max still can’t remember anything from her dreams, so Chloe has to fill in the pieces. If it is connected, what does that mean? How can they remember something they’ve never seen?

Max stays in her room for a while, pondering the events of the past few months, until it’s time for her to get moving. She shows up to the library a few minutes late, but Chloe is waiting for her nonetheless. When she gets close, Chloe puts a hand on her arm. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“That might just be winter Max. But I don’t know. I had a weird day.” Max begins to climb the steps to the library, and continues as Chloe follows. “I’ll tell you more when we find a private spot.”

“Private? Ooh la la.”

Max gives her a halfhearted shove, and Chloe laughs. They make their way up to the top floor, where few students usually venture, and find a table tucked away in the corner. Max pulls out her laptop and begins to search as Chloe takes a seat across from her. “So what’s up?” Chloe asks.

“I was in class today, my professor was talking about freak natural disasters. I wasn’t really paying attention, cause it’s science, y’know, its sucks-“

“Hey!”

“-and she mentioned this place I’ve never heard of, but the name sounded so familiar somehow.” Max scours through picture on the internet before finding one similar to what she saw. “I was staring at the picture of this town that got destroyed and I felt drawn to it. Like it was calling to me, and I was hearing this rushing in my ears, then this incredible pain that had me blacking out for a second. When I came to my nose was bleeding.”

“Holy shit, dude.”

Max turns her laptop around and shows Chloe the picture. “This town. This was it!”

Chloe looks at the photo, silent for the longest time. “Where did you find this?”

“On the internet, it’s all over. It was big news when it happened.”

“And this is Arcadia Bay?”

Max nods. “Yeah. You've heard of it?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No. I’ve seen it. Max, that’s the town in our dreams.”

“Real funny, Chloe.”

Chloe looks at her, and it’s the most serious Max has ever seen her. She isn’t joking. It’s written so over her face, in her wide, scared eyes, the way she leans forward ever so slightly, as if silently begging Max to rebuke her. But Max can’t. Something deep down inside know Chloe is speaking the truth. And that terrifies her. “That’s crazy. That’s batshit crazy.”

“How do you think I feel? But I know it is.” Chloe turns the computer so Max can see and clicks on various photos, pointing out certain objects. “Two Whales Diner. I see that when I’m driving away. Blackwell Academy. That’s where I’m at in the swimming pool. This lighthouse? That’s where I’m standing when I see the storm with that girl.” Her voice is tight and strained, as if she’s fighting to keep calm. “I swear to you, I’ve never seen or heard of that town before. I’m not making this up.”

“I believe you.” Max reaches out, laying a hand over Chloe’s. Her hand is warm under hers, blue nail polish chipping around the edges. She can feel a current running between them, something old and familiar, begging to be nourished, to thrive again. Like the ashes of a garden, roadmaps to a place no longer there, there is something tapping at the door of her mind, asking her to open. Has it always been there, a tiny seed starting to grow anew in the spaces between them? There is something intimate about the moments she shares with Chloe, as if they exist only for the two of them, on and on for eternity. It’s both maddening and exhilarating.

Max realizes she has been staring, and she pulls back her hand with an awkward cough. “Um, yeah, so… what does this mean?”

Chloe looks away, scratching at her cheeks, and Max swears she can see a noticeable flush creeping up her neck. “Well, the way I see it, either both of us have some deeply repressed memories that are resurfacing, or, crazy as it is, we’ve been dreaming of the past.”

Max tries to wrap her head around it, but she can physically feel the wiring in her brain begin to fry at the thought. “You might want to duck, I think my head is going to explode.”

Chloe reaches out and presses both of her hands against Max’s head. “Keep it in, we need your gray matter.” She says with a chuckle, and, yeah, there is definitely a blush there in her cheeks. After a moment, she lets go and leans back into her chair.

“I mean, holy shit Chloe.” Max says. “What’s happening? How do we even- where do we-” She sputters to a stop, too many thoughts trying to come out of her mouth without any basis to go upon. If this was true, this was far beyond anything they could have imagined. How do you research something like that? How do you figure out where to even start looking? It was crazy. It was beyond crazy. Beyond reason.

Chloe shakes her head. “I don’t know. But I say we’ve done some good sleuthing for the day. How about we call it good, get some Taco Bell and binge something shitty on Netflix?”

Max smiles. “I think that sounds amazing. I could really use a distraction.”

Chloe stands and gathers her things before extending a hand. “Then come, let’s make some poor life decisions.”

Max takes it and is helped up. She picks up her backpack and slings it over her shoulder, falling into step beside Chloe as they travel. This whole situation was bizarre. She thought she would have believed anything at this point, but now that they might have an answer, it seems so far fetched that she can hardly wrap her brain around it. Dreaming of the past. How? Why? To what end did this serve if it were to be true. Her mind is so overwhelmed by the possibilities she feels more numb than anything, her sense tasked to capacity and threatening to burst. Focusing on something, anything, would be better than this.

They order their food and bring their haul back to the dorm. In spite of everything that’s transpired, Chloe is positively beaming at the sight of her hoard, arms full of food. When they get back to Chloe’s room, her roomate is there, packing her backpack. “Yo, Brooke.”

“Hey Chloe,” she says, glancing over. “Hey Chloe’s friend.”

Max offers a sheepish wave. Chloe sets their things down. “Where’re you off to? Some grand adventure?”

Brooke picks up her bag and swings it over one shoulder, then the other. “Nothing so exciting. Study group for an upcoming physics exam.” She looks at the spread of food. “If that does to you what I think it’s going to, I’m sleeping in the hall.”

“You wound me! No faith in my hardy constitution?”

Brooke moves to the door and Max steps aside. As she opens it, she says, over her shoulder, “Not after the Fireball incident. Later Chloe. Later Chloe’s friend,” and leaves.

Chloe laughs and goes over to her laptop, logging on and pulling up a browser. She points to her bed. “Dig in whenever you want. I’ve got some soda in the mini fridge.” 

Max opens the fridge and grabs a grape soda, before clambering onto the bed and sitting, legs crossed. After a few minutes of searching, Chloe joins her, legs spread out and computer in her lap. She scrolls through the list of sci-fi movies, reading out descriptions while the two of them laugh about the absurdity of them. Soon, they decide on one with a one star rating. Max leans over and turns off the light, and the two of them settle in. The movie is brain cell killing levels of bad, but it’s so campy its fun, and it feels nice to have a normal moment amid the chaotic tidal wave her life has become. This is what her life should have been, hanging out with a friend eating fast food and watching movies. Still, if there is one good thing to have come out of this whole fiasco, it’s that it brought Chloe into her life. For that, she is grateful. She’s never met someone she instantly clicked with, someone she felt as if she’s known her whole life. It was nice.

Together, they polish off the food, and get through one and half more movies. Max doesn’t remember nodding off, but she dreams of something new, of water on her skin, heart full and happy, feeling lighter and better than she has in awhile. When she awakens, she is still sitting upright, head resting on Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe, for her part, is out cold, head leaned back against the wall. She is snoring softly. Her laptop is fallen to one side, Netflix asking if they were still watching. In the darkness, across the room, Max can just make our the form of Chloe’s roomate, asleep in her bed. It must be later than they thought. Max’s heart speeds up a bit at the idea that she’s been snoozing half on top of Chloe this whole time. Yet, it was the best sleep she’s had so far. Chloe was so warm, a comforting presence by her side. She felt… safe, in a way she couldn’t fully describe. Still, she hadn’t intended to stay this long, to invade Chloe’s room and fall asleep on her. The last thing she wants to do was make her uncomfortable. That, and this was stirring up a lot of emotions Max didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole.

Slowly, carefully, Max extracts herself from the bed, then the room, leaning against the door for a moment to take a deep breath. The hall is empty, and she isn’t sure what time it is, but she heads to the bathroom and splashes water on her face, taking a long look at her reflection. She reaches up, letting her hair out of its ponytail, idly combing through it with her fingers before putting it back up. She needs to get it together. This isn’t the time or place for feelings and she knows it. She knows it, and yet she still feels drawn to Chloe, helpless in the face of her magnetic pull. Max sighs, rubbing at her face. She’s never had it this bad before.

The bathroom door opens, and Kate steps in, clad in a robe and flipflops, shower caddy in hand. She pauses for a moment, before she smiles. “Oh, hey Max! Didn’t think you would be up so early.”

“Is it really that early?”

“A little after six.” Kate opens up one of the showers curtains and steps inside, turning on the faucet. She sets her caddy down and turns to look at Max. “Everything alright? It’s been a bit since we caught up.”

Max shakes her head, turning around and hopping up onto the sink. “I…. I honestly don’t even know where to begin. I think you might actually think I’m crazy.”

“Max, you know I would never think that. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I know.” Max looks at the floor, legs kicking back and forth. “You can- you can take a shower while we talk. This is one of those things where it’d be easier to talk to the curtain, if that makes sense.”

“Of course.” Kate takes a moment to cross the room, laying a hand on Max’s knee and giving a soft squeeze. She offers and earnest smile, before she disappears into the shower, closing the curtain behind her. “Go at your own pace. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Oh man, where do I start?” Max closes her eyes and sits there for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. It’s been such a worldwind, she isn’t sure she could untangle the whole affair enough to find the beginning. So, she didn’t bother to try. “Have you… ever heard of anyone dreaming about something that never happened to them?”

“I- I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Like, dreaming about something that happened in the past. But an event they were never actually at?”

“Personally? No.”

Max can see the images of Arcadia Bay in her mind, newspaper photos of a town completely leveled. That’s the town she and Chloe dream of, but she’s never seen it. Why are Chloe’s dreams clear but hers aren’t. Who are they? And who are they with? “Yeah, though that might be a long shot. Okay, I’m just gonna get it over with. Have you ever heard of Arcadia Bay?”

“Yes, actually. My father vacationed there when he was very young, and a few years later it was destroyed by a storm. Why?”

“Well, um, that’s what we’re dreaming of. The moments leading up to it, I think.”

“We?”

“Chloe and I.”

There’s a long pause, then Kate’s eye appear on one side of the shower curtain. “You and Chloe…”

“Are dreaming about the same thing, yes.”

For the longest time, Kate just stares at her through the gap in the curtain, eyebrows scrunched, and Max can practically see the thought process going through her head as she tries to piece it all together. The whole thing is so absurd Max finds herself smiling in spite of it all. “That’s… a lot, Max.” Kate finally manages. “Wow.”

“Right?” Max leans back against the mirror. “We’re dreaming about the same stuff, only I didn’t remember it, but she does. We don’t know why any of this is happening or what it means.”

“I- I mean- Gosh, Max, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, honestly. It feels good to get it off my chest.”

Kate disappears behind the curtain again. “Well, I’m good for that, at least. Unfortunately, the rest is… out of my purview.”

“You know, if it was, I’d think you were an angel sent from above.”

That earns a laugh, muffled by the curtain and swiftly falling water. “That’s a bit much, but I appreciate the sentiment. In any event, how are you holding up? That’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

Max exhales heavily, looking at the tacky and sterile fluorescent lights above. That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it. She supposes she never gave it much thought, how she was feeling about all of this. What it was doing to her. She was so focused on the dreams and discovering what it all meant that she never stopped to give herself a moment to clear her head. It was almost scary, how mechanically she had been going about these last few weeks. With the dreams consistent and repeating, it was easy to lose track of time, to fall into the rhythm of it all until she felt like she found herself in Groundhogs Day. Is she okay? She thinks so, all things considered. Then again, she did have a blackout in class. Perhaps it was the stress of it all, eating away at her bit by bit. Maybe it was bigger than that. But that kind of thinking would just lead her back to Chloe and the dreams. It was a cycle, endless and all consuming. And maybe finding the answer would break a chain somewhere along the line and time would start feeling linear again. So, no, she doesn’t really know how she’s holding up. She just knows that she’s here, in this moment, and that’s all she really has. “To be honest, I don’t even know anymore Kate.”

“That’s fair. Probably natural, actually.” The water shuts off, and there is rusting on the other side, the sound of bottles being dropped into a plastic tote, before Kate swings open the curtain and steps out, in a bath robe closed tight around her, a towel slung over one shoulder, hair wet and matted. She walks over to Max and stops in front of her, setting her caddy on the counter. “Just- just try to take a few moments for yourself. Clear your head and get away from it. I can’t even imagine what’s going through your head right now. Honestly, it’s making mine spin. Take care of yourself, please.”

Max offers a small smile in return, hoping it looks more earnest than anything. “I’ll try, Kate.” She slides off the counter, landing on her feet with a soft thump. “Thanks for listening. I’m gonna go grab some more shut eye.”

“Always a pleasure talking to you.”

Max pauses at the door to wave goodbye before heading off down the hall and to her room. She collapses into her bed face first. She doesn’t get up for the longest time, not quite asleep, but not thinking of anything in particular. It’s a nice change of pace. She has been doing nothing but thinking these last few months and the burnout was getting unbearable. She enjoyed her photography classes, could tolerate the other ones if she tried hard enough and she truly did want to understand what was going on, but having it all happen at once, nonstop, was pulling her in every direction imaginable and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up. Surely something was bound to break eventually, she just didn't know what and wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Surviving college was so much fucking harder than anyone ever warned her about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm still alive.
> 
> Writing a multichapter fic is hard y'all, mad respect to all y'all who do it consistently

Max eventually pulls herself out of her stupor an indiscriminate amount of time later, to find it well into the afternoon. Deciding that she needs a chance to clear her head, she gathers up some of her stuff into her bag and takes the campus bus to small cafe in the city, ordering herself lunch and a smoothie. She sits at a small table by the window and works on her laptop, sifting through a list of assignments that were beginning to pile up. She knows she can’t let herself fall behind. Solving mysteries is important, but so is not flunking out of school. Max spends quite a few hours in the cafe, working through the most pressing assignments, careful to take breaks every once in a while. She manages to be quite productive, which she is rather proud of.

Eventually, though, her mind begins to wander. She can only stave off the mystery for so long before she begins to dig into Arcadia Bay a little deeper. Max has to admit that the question of whose lives she and Chloe are seeing is eating away at her. She is pleased to see that the little town eventually rebuilt, though it could hardly be called the same, seeing as most everyone who had previously lived there had died in the storm. Max can’t even imagine moving to a ghost town with that kind of history. With a little research, she finds that Arcadia Bay was once home to a prestigious art school, which didn’t get rebuilt, but it was still a fishing town. It was pretty unremarkable, except for the fact that it was wiped out. So why was she there in her dreams? What could possibly be so significant that someone decades into the future had to see it? Max rubs at her eyes. She is going in circles, always going in circles.

Eventually, Max gathers her stuff and leaves, determined not to be that person who stays until closing. On the bus ride back, she does her best to brainstorm. Nothing about this makes any goddamn sense. Maybe it was time to throw convention to the wind and start entertaining the strangest, most out-there theories she could come up with. Perhaps it is a warning from the past. Perhaps she is a time traveler. Maybe she is really a sleeper agent from the government and has begun the activation process. Or maybe she and Chloe are just batshit crazy in the same way.

When Max is back on campus, she heads to her room and settles in for the night to binge shows and browse all of her favorite photography blogs. She spends a few hours like this, before a series of heavy knocks on her door startles her. She pauses, sets her laptop aside but doesn’t move, uncertain. Was it her door or one over? Who could possibly need her at this hour? But, no, whoever is on the other side pounds on it again, more insistent. Max hops off the bed and tentatively opens the door to a very drunk Chloe, who almost knocks again on Max’s forehead before realizing the door is open. “Chloe?”

Chloe gives a big goofy grin. “Heyyyyyy, Max.”

Max looks her up and down. “Have a good night?”

“Fuck yeah. Celebratory drinks for…… for fuckin acing my chem exam!”

“Congratulations…?” Max leans against the doorframe. “Did you need me for something?”

“Oh! Yes.” Chloe blinks. “I locked myself out of my room, can I crash here for a hot second until Brooke is back?”

“Um, sure.” Max moves out do the way. “Is Brooke gone?”

Chloe waves her hand in a vague motion as she steps inside. “Doin’ something Brookey, I think. I don’t know. But she’s not in the room. Or if she is, she’s doin’ something important and she’s not letting me in.”

Max closes the door and follows Chloe, who stands in the middle of the room as if taking it in. Max clears her stuff off her bed and offers it to Chloe, who jumps up and lands face first into the mattress. Max pulls out the chair from her desk and sits down. Chloe lifts her head up just enough for her eyes to be visible above the blankets. “ ‘s nice room. Very hipster.”

“Thanks, I think. Do you want me to text Brooke what happened?”

“Ah, that’s a good idea.”

“You know her number?”

Chloe fishes around in her pockets before pulling out her phone and handing it Max. “Too much trouble, just use mine.”

Max takes and stares at the lock screen, a picture of a very portly cat with its tongue stuck out, before Chloe chimes in, “011235.” Max types it in and unlocks the phone, pulling up the contact list and finding Brooke, typing up what she thinks to be a quick summation of what’s happening and letting her know she can snag Chloe from her room. Beside her, Chloe gives a low chuckle. “It’s the first few numbers of the Fibonacci Sequence. But don’t tell anyone.” And she makes a hush sound.

Max hands her back her phone. “You know, I have no idea what that means.”

Chloe tips her head to one side, that same toothy smile on her face. “That’s okay. I still like you.”

“Oh, good, didn’t realize that was up for debate tonight.” Max looks around. “Did you need anything?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No, no. Don’t mind me, keep doing you.”

Max turns to face her desk, a little unsure. It feels weird just leaving Chloe there while she does her work, but she does. Well, she does actual work, because she would feel pretty odd browsing blogs with her friend right over her shoulder, so she pretends to be productive again and does some school work. After a while, she almost forgets Chloe is there, and assumes she’s fallen asleep, until Chloe pipes up, “You look really cute like that.”

Max turns to face her again and finds her leaning over the side of the bed, arms dangling, looking at her with a soft, almost misty-eyed expression. “Like what?”

Chloe smiles and reaches out, pushing hair out of Max’s face that had pulled loose from her ponytail. “Studying. All concentrated.” Her hand lingers for a moment, fingertips warm against Max’s forehead, but all Max can focus are her eyes. “But you also look really cute all the time.” She leans a little farther off the bed. “Cause you’re just really pretty, y’know?”

No, she really doesn’t. Max can feel her face heat up and she swallows. When did Chloe’s face get so close? Max opens her mouth to say something, finds herself leaning in closer instead as Chloe’s fingers trail down to her jaw. She tries again to speak but is interrupted by a knock on the door and pulls away, keenly aware of her racing heart. Chloe’s hand drops down and she rests her head on one of her arms, that gentle expression still on her face, and watches Max get up and open the door.

Brooke is on the other side, looking mildly irritated. “Hey Chloe’s friend. Here to collect the resident freeloader.”

Max motions to her bed and steps aside. “There she is. It’s Max, by the way.”

Brooke makes it to the bed just as Chloe haphazardly slides off of it. She helps her upright, giving her a nudge and begins to walk her out. “Thanks for taking care of her, Max.”

“Anytime.” Max waves as they head out of the room and down the hall, before shutting the door with a heavy sigh and leaning against it, letting her head fall back.

God, Chloe. Stupid, beautiful Chloe. She has Max acting like some love-struck middle schooler. And what was that all about anyway? Max chalks it up to the alcohol. She’s seen enough drunk people to know that some people get very affectionate when the liquor has set in. It is almost funny, then, that Chloe is an affectionate drunk. Almost, save for the fact that those few moments nearly sent Max to an early grave.

Max pushes off the door and heads back to her desk, doing her best to focus on the task. It works, for a short while, until she finally gives up and calls it a night. She stays up for quite some time, still thinking about what had happened and everything in between, but eventually, she falls asleep. She awakens in the morning with a wicked headache and finds her nose has been steadily bleeding. The sensations had been similar to what she’s felt before, wind and rain, despair mixed with hope, another’s hand in hers. Max holds a palm to her nose, but despite it all, she can’t help but give a giddy sort of laugh, eyes half shut against the pain in her head. Whatever had happened during the night, one thing was clear: she had remembered the first thing ever from her dream. A lighthouse.

Max takes a moment, tending to her nose until the bleeding stops, and pops a few ibuprofens for the headache. When she feels a bit better, she does some quick research, and confirms her suspicions. That was the lighthouse from Arcadia Bay, before the storm hit. Max falls back into her bed with an incredulous huff. That was it then. Undeniable proof that she and Chloe were dreaming about a place that didn’t exist anymore, at least, not in the way it used to. Dreaming of the past, the same sequence, the same events. Max stares at the ceiling. “What the fuck?” She says aloud.

It had been easy to hold onto some modicum of disbelief, of normalcy in all of this. The idea had been almost nebulous on her part, had some aspect in which she could onto the idea that maybe this wasn't real. That this had been one massive trick her mind had played on her. Except it wasn’t. It was real. Max isn’t sure how she feels. On one hand, this means she isn’t crazy. On the other, that means there is no going back from here. Nothing will ever be the same. The thought weighs heavy on Max’s heart. She can’t possibly conceive where this thing will end, and that scares her.

Max debates telling Chloe, but she figures that after the night she had, she is going to be nursing a killer hangover. The information can wait. It only confirms what they already knew.

Whose life is she seeing? Where are they now? Did they survive the storm? Max has so many questions and no way to answer them. She doesn’t try.

She spends the next few days avoiding anything to do with them. Her life has become so repetitive that it’s startlingly easy to ignore the lingering feelings the dreams leave behind. Max remembers nothing else, not even the lighthouse. If there is someone on the end of this, pulling the strings, they didn’t see fit to let her peer back behind the curtain once more. Perhaps she has seen too much already. She chooses not to dwell on those ideas. It only feeds the cycle, and she is determined to feel like a normal college student, even if only for a few days. 

It works for a little bit, until she runs into Chloe at the coffee shop. Max is waiting for her order and Chloe walks through the door, intending to get in line before she spots her and waves, making her way through the crowd towards her. Max can feel her face flush and she looks away.

“Hey, Maxaroni,” Chloe says, sliding into place next to her. 

“Hey Chloe.” Max looks at the floor. Maybe the universe will be kind to her. Maybe Chloe won’t remember.

Chloe sets her backpack on the floor and open it up, rooting around through a mess of pens, pencils and crumpled paper until she finds her wallet. She zips her bag back up and puts it on as she stands. She lets out a small laugh. “This week has been kicking my ass, I’ll tell you what.”

“You could say that again.”

Chloe glances at her. “You order already?”

Max nods. She has been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole time and yet it still hangs. Maybe she really didn’t remember? Could Max Caulfield really be that lucky?

“Ah, okay. I’m gonna hop in line. You don’t have to wait up for me, I just wanted to say hey.” Chloe moves to go stand in line, but Max grabs her wrist and stops her. Chloe looks at her quizzically.

“Hey, um, I know this isn’t the best place to mention this but…” Max drops her voice as low as she can, which isn’t much given the noise of the place. “I saw something in my dream.”

“What, really? Holy shit this is great! What’d you see?”

“A lighthouse.” Max lets go of Chloe wrist, keenly aware of how much her fingertips burned where they met Chloe’s skin. “The lighthouse, I mean.”

Chloe nods in understanding. “So, it’s settled then. We’re for sure on the same wavelength with this dream shit.”

“Looks like it, yeah.”

Chloe pauses, deep in thought. She appears as if she has a lot to say, but the barista calls Max’s order out, and instead she just smiles. “I won’t keep you, but I think we have a lot to talk about, huh?”

“I think so. We’ll figure out something.” Max casts a sidelong glance at Chloe. Seeing her with the gears moving in her head, all the theories flying, it’s a sight to behold. It’s nice. “Maybe you can stop by tonight, if you want.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I can manage that.”

Max offers a small smile. “Okay. I’ll see you later then.” She goes to get her order and heads out of the coffee shop. For once in this whole godforsaken year, she got lucky. Chloe was so drunk she didn’t remember. Well, that was one less thing to worry about, then, having things be awkward between them.

When Chloe shows up, it’s very late at night. Max had almost thought she wouldn't show up at all. Perhaps a small part of her hoped. Still, it is nice to see her, feelings aside. She waits for Chloe to find a place to sit and settle down before she goes to join her. It feels a little different here in this room, but Max can’t tell if that’s just her, or if there had been some kind of fundamental shift. Carefully, Max joins Chloe on her bed, sitting next to her and leaning against the wall, head back and eyes closed. They sit in silence for a few moments, before Chloe asks, “You okay?”

Max inhales slowly, until her lungs are so full they ache, and lets it out, opening her eyes and staring at her knees. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. This whole thing is getting to me. We’re just going in circles, you know? Every answer gets more questions. It’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, it’s… frustrating, to put it mildly.” Chloe offers.

Max rubs at one of her eyes with the back of her hand. Her headaches haven’t been as bad as a few days previous, but more and more she wakes up with a soft throbbing in her temple. “I don’t know if I want it solved or if I just want it to stop or what I just… I just don’t know. But I can’t stop. I have to keep going.”

Chloe hesitates for a split second, before resting a hand on Max’s thigh. “You don’t have to run yourself ragged over this.”

Max is keenly aware of the presence of Chloe’s hand, warm and weighted atop her. It has her heart pounding, but there is a strange sort of comfort in it, a familiarity she does not question. “I know. And I’m so fucking tired. And I just-“ Max shakes her head. “Don’t even know anymore.”

“Maybe we don’t have to know right now. We know each other, and that’s enough.”

“Maybe.” Max’s eyes feel heavy and her limbs feel heavy and everything feels so suffocating. It gets like this when she allows herself time to think and reflect on what has happened. It’s easier if she stays busy but that still leads her to this same place, the same end of the rope.

“Would you like some time to yourself? To rest and relax and shit?”

Max smiles a bit despite herself. She truly did have a soft spot in her heart for Chloe’s inelegance. “Actually, if it’s not too much trouble… could you stay?”

“Of course,” Chloe says, so soft and genuine that for a moment, Max feels okay.

She isn’t sure how, but they end up curled up beneath the covers of her bed, the only light being the lamp on Max’s desk, facing each other in the low light. Chloe’s hand rests a fraction away from Max’s, close enough for her to feel the warmth, but not quite touching. They lay together in silence. Instead of thinking about the newest development in the puzzle, Max’s mind is occupied by what Chloe had said in her drunken stupor. It is a stupid thing to get so worked up about, given Chloe didn’t even remember and it was probably caused by the drink and nothing else. Even still, Max can’t get it out of her head, certainly not with Chloe here in front of her. Max tries to keep her mouth shut, she honestly does, but eventually, the words come tumbling out of her before she can stop them. “Did you mean it?” She asks.

“Hmm?”

“The other day, when you were really drunk, you called me pretty. Did you mean it?”

Chloe knits her eyebrows together as she struggles to recall the day. “Oh, that.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but she appears to be blushing slightly. “I was uh, hoping maybe I’d imagined that part.”

Max’s heart drops. “Oh,” is all she can manage, voice barely present.

“No no! Not that like. I just didn’t want to have made you uncomfortable.” It takes a moment for Chloe to finally make eye contact with her again. “But, yes, I did mean it. You are insanely pretty. And smart. And wonderfully quirky. And generally an awesome person.”

Chloe looks so open and honest in that moment, her heart laid out right there between them. It’s a startling confession, and Max cannot even begin to process it, but her body moves faster than her mind does. Before she knows it, she is leaning in close and Chloe’s eyes go wide. Max presses her lips against Chloe’s and closes her eyes.

When she opens them, the world is chaos. Wind whips her hair to and fro, vicious rain lashing at her face. The deafening roar, like a freight train in an echo chamber batters her ears. Beside her, a massive storm barrels down on a helpless town. Behind her, a lighthouse, stubbornly holding on, but slowly losing the battle. Arcadia Bay. Max knows this place, even if she does not remember. She has been here before. And there, before her, is Chloe. Different. Sharper. Harder. Changed hair, changed clothes. She looks terrified and sad and conflicted. The storm is upon them. The time to choose is now. Max’s hands are in Chloe’s, frozen fingers laced. She won’t let go. Not this time.

Max blinks and the world is back, a simple dorm room. She pulls away from Chloe, whose expression mirror her own. “You… you saw that, right?”

Chloe swallows and nods.

“That was- that was us, wasn’t it?”

Chloe’s jaw is clenched so tight Max can see the muscles of her cheek straining. Max sits up, rubbing at her face. It felt so real, being there. The hair on her arms is still standing on end, goosebumps from a freezing rain that had never happened. “How are we- why are we- if that’s us-“ Max clenches her fists. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Chloe rolls onto her back. “What if it’s not us?”

“It certainly looked like us. I mean, you had blue hair and a tattoo and a different wardrobe but I know that was you.”

“That’s not what I meant. What if it’s not us us?”

Max looks down at her, incredulous. Everything got dialed up to 100 so quickly it hardly seems to matter that she had kissed her. And quite frankly, that seemed like the least earth-shattering thing of the day. “What do you even mean?”

Chloe sits up and joins her. She looks utterly shaken, but it’s clear the analytical part of her brain is taking over. “Well, logically we know that can’t be us. We were both born way after that storm. So that isn’t us, at least not as we currently exist.”

“Chloe, what the fuck are you talking about.”

Chloe shakes her head. “You know what, fuck it. This isn’t even sounding crazy anymore, so I don’t care. Past lives. You. Me. Who we were before.”

“That’s just- what?”

Chloe sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually, turning the idea around in my head. I always pushed it back, because it was so ludicrous but… it makes sense. You can’t tell me you haven’t felt something strange about me, the way I have with you. Like we’ve known each other for years. Like we click. Like maybe there was something different.” She looks at Max, as if she expects her to disagree.

But she can’t, because Chloe is right. So it really wasn’t just her. There was something there, something entirely beyond them, yet simultaneously existing only for them. “So you think that we’re seeing our past lives?” 

“Yes, I do. But at a very specific time.”

“Oh. Do you… do you think we made it? Out of the storm?”

“I don’t know.” Chloe’s fingers are splayed against the sheets, the slight tremors in them almost unrecognizable. “But I think we were meant to find each other again.”

Max gives an incredulous snort. “So that’s why you feel so familiar, then. I’ve already known you. Always known you. Just didn’t remember.”

Chloe’s lips curve into a small smile. “Guess so. Makes sense, if you throw logic out the window.”

“Hasn’t that been the only rule so far?”

“Yeah, it kinda has.” Chloe casts a sidelong look at her. “You’re not gonna take back that kiss, are you?”

“Oh!” Max can feel her face heat up and she knows she must be red in the cheeks. She can’t hold Chloe’s gaze. “No. U-unless you want me to!”

“I was actually hoping you’d do it again.”

This time, Max does spare a glance at her. Chloe is confidant, as relaxed as she could be given the recent revelations, but Max has known her long enough to see the undercurrent of nervousness running through her, that tinge of fear at the thought of rejection. Max hesitates for a moment - it’s strange to be asked when it had been spur of the moment before - and leans in, pressing her lips against Chloe’s, who melts into the kiss, eyes closing. This time, there was nothing apocalyptic. No storm, no revelations, just a moment in the present. Max pulls back for a moment, catches her breath, then she’s back, taking in everything that is Chloe, feeling grounded and weightless at the same time. Chloe’s hands come to rest on her face.

Something about this moment clicks, like the final jump in a complex circuit. Everything leading up to this singular action. Two souls, cast adrift, bound together and having finally found each other across the wide waking world. It felt right, somehow. If this was truly the way Chloe thinks it is, then all of this was inevitable. A retracing of a path made long ago. New bodies in old grooves. It felt right. 

Somehow, they end up falling back onto the bed, a laughing mess, and Max rests her head on Chloe’s chest after the shock of the initial rumble subsides. It’s strange. It’s all so very strange. To be here, simultaneously just Max, just Chloe, yet also, to be that Max and that Chloe. This was only ever going to be something bigger than them, and it is, but it was also so much smaller than that, because it was just them. Two people, new lives, old memories, finding each other. “So what does this all mean?” Max asks, tracing her fingers across the bedsheets. 

“Which part?”

“All of it really, but mostly this… past life business?” Max can feel every breathe Chloe takes, feel her heart beat. If this is the way things are, then this was a tethered existence that transcended a single lifetime. “What happens to us? Why did it happen? Like, is it just us? Does everyone get reincarnated?”

“Valid questions. Not sure how we’d test. It could honestly be just us.” Chloe stares at the ceiling. “I mean, there’s no such thing as a world full of variables. There has to be a constant, something so immovable that everything else changes just to fit within the confines of that truth. Maybe we’re the constants, and everything else is the variables.”

“Ugh, math.”

Chloe prods her in the ribs. “Quiet you. Just think about it, okay. Maybe there’s more to it, but at the end of the day, we know it’s us. Always us.”

“The question is who else, right? What other threads are there? And why?”

“Million dollar question there. If it’s just us, then why just us?”

Max hums for a moment, before rolling off of Chloe and leaning over to grab her phone. Chloe raises an eyebrow at her. “Just wanted to check something.” Max does a little digging, then a lot of digging, pinning down the timeline before she stumbles upon what she is looking for. “Aha!” She pulls up the picture, zooming in until she sees exactly what she is looking for. She can see Chloe starting to snoop, so she flips her phone and shows her, pointing to a singular face in the photo. “We’re not crazy. That’s me.” Sure enough, top row and to the right, smiling in a typical Max fashion, is her. Well, previous her. It’s a spitting image, the only discernible difference being that the Max in the photo has a bob.

“Well, holy shit.” Chloe scans the photo, moving it around with her fingers. “I’m not there.”

Max frowns and checks, but sure enough, there is no Chloe. “Maybe you didn’t go to Blackwell? Or graduated before me?”

“Maybe.” Chloe falls back into the mattress. “There we are, back with more questions huh?”

Max puts her phone away and lays down beside Chloe. “Just like always. I know there’s more to this.” She turns her head to look at Chloe. “I don’t really know a lot about religion but this doesn’t match typical reincarnation, I don’t think. Why are we, well, us? Like why do we look like ourselves and not just random people with memories of who we were before.”

“Very good questions. This does feel a little deliberate.”

“Deliberate on the part of who? Who did this? Who is even capable of that?”

Chloe puts a finger on her forehead. “Maybe it’s in here. There’s a lot you don’t remember from that week. Maybe you saw something I didn’t.”

Max hadn’t thought of it that way. After tonight, would the memories start to come back. This had to be significant, this week. An answer was hidden there, she just needs to remember it. But how? That seems to depend on whether these flashes of memory happen at random or if there is a pattern. Max thinks for a while, before she says, “It’s you.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s you. And well, me. I think that’s why we’re seeing more and more. Being close together again must have brought the memories back. So maybe to remember, I need you?”

“A couple of kisses and you’re all ready to U-Haul, huh?”

Max shoves her shoulder. “You ass, I’m trying to hypothesize here. Everything else aside, I think they’ll come back on their own. Because I have you, so we’re at that goal.”

“I’m not a patient woman, Max.” Chloe teases. 

“You’re gonna learn. If the answers are in my brain, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“How am I supposed to occupy my time then?” Chloe says, adding a hint of a whine to her voice.

“I don’t know, put your noodle to use working on the greatest scientific mystery of your life?”

Chloe mimics the sound of a whip cracking. “You drive a hard bargain. Guess that means you won’t be seeing the last of me.”

“I… don’t really want to,” Max says, softer than she’d been speaking before. It’s easy to get caught up in the mystery and intrigue of it all, but at the end of the day, it all came down to the two of them. And Max has caught feelings like she’s never had before. And so, it seems, has Chloe. So where does that leave them, in the grand scheme of things? Max isn’t really sure. She could see the bigger picture, in the sense of how to frame it, but it was only ever about capturing it, not using it. So this whole thing was beyond her. 

“You won’t.” Chloe reaches out and takes hold of her hand, lacing their fingers together. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Max believes her.

They talk for a short while longer, before things fall into silence. Max doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up to the sound of her alarm in the morning, with the unfamiliar presence of Chloe draped across her body. It’s comforting and heart stopping all at once. Max shuts off the alarm as Chloe groans, then yawns, bleary eyes blinking. 

Chloe scrunches her eyes up and stares at the clock. “No, it’s still a fucking weekday? That’s not fair.”

“Universities stop for no one. Rise and shine.” As much as she doesn’t want to, Max begins to extract herself from Chloe’s grasp. She doesn’t help at first, but eventually she sits up as well as Max gets off the bed. After everything, all Max wants to do is stay in bed, but if she takes it one day at a time, maybe another piece of the puzzle will fall into her lap. At the very least, it will be the weekend soon enough. “You have class soon?”

Chloe buries her face in the pillow and her voice is so muffled it’s almost indistinguishable. “Yeah.”

“Guess you gotta put on your big girl pants and go to class then, huh?”

Chloe turns her head ever so slightly to look at Max. Her hair is messy, her eyes puffy, and there are red lines on her cheek from the wrinkles on the pillows and goddammit she still looks stunning. “Can’t I take a rain check? E-mail them? There’s a beautiful girl I want lay in bed with, they’ll understand right?”

Max tears her gaze away and goes to her closet to pick her outfit, just so Chloe can’t see her face. It’s different and new, this dynamic, and Chloe seems to know how to go straight to her heart, make her heart beat all the way up into her throat and in her ears. “That sounds uncouth.”

“Couthness be damned, let them think what they want!” Chloe protests, but eventually she starts to get up. She mutters a string of soft curses as she fumbles around for her shoes and her keys, pulling her sweatshirt loosely over herself. She walks by Max, running fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. “Talk to you later, I guess?”

“Oh, you know it! Just stop by whenever.”

“Cool, yeah.” Chloe stops by the door, before turning back, walking over and planting a kiss on Max’s forehead. Then she’s out the door, leaving Max standing there, skin warm where Chloe’s lips had touched. Max touches it. 

Were they…. Max shakes her head. She isn’t really sure what her relationship with Chloe was. Perhaps some limbo between friends and girlfriends. Girlfriends. Huh. That had an undeniable ring to it, but that was a bridge to be crossed another day. Max changes and gathers her stuff and goes about her day absolutely brimming with energy. It was invigorating, having that breakthrough. Terrifying and strange but still, it was progress and it had breathed new life into her. She felt as if they were finally getting somewhere. Not to mention things had gone better than she could have ever hoped for.

Max sits in the cafeteria at the end of the day, enjoying an early dinner and a moment of peace in her favored, reasonably secluded spot. As she eats, someone catches her eye. Kate. Max frantically waves her over, ignoring the stares she gets, until Kate finally notices and comes her way. 

“Max, you seem to be doing better,” Kate says as she slides into the booth across from her.

Max nods, taking a moment to swallow before she says, “Holy shit do I have a lot to tell you!”

“Oh?” 

“Yes. You might want to grab food. It’s a lot.”

Kate smiles and laughs. “Okay.” And heads off. She returns a few minutes later with a salad and a glass of iced tea. She looks at Max expectantly as she unfolds a napkin and lays it across her lap.

“Oh my dog, I don’t even know where to start.” Max never imagined she would be so excited so soon, given the way thing has been going this far, but here she was, ready to gush like some middle schooler. Max leans in close, even though no one is paying attention and the cafeteria is its usual chaotic din. “I kissed Chloe.”

Kate’s eyes go wide before a smile splits her face, perfect teeth on full display. “Really now.”

“Uh huh. I don’t know what came over me, I just did it!”

“And how did she respond?”

“She kissed me back? I know I know, you told me so. But there’s… something between us, I don’t know what, but it’s there.”

“That’s wonderful Max.” Kate takes a drink, still entirely enthralled by the conversation.

“And that’s not all.” Max’s shoulder begins to ache with the strain of leaning, but it feels more secretive somehow, like no one could hear no matter how close they may be. “We’ve discovered some more clues.”

Kate leans a little closer, waiting for Max to continue.

Max bunches her hands into fists where they rest on her thighs, hidden beneath the table. She trusts Kate, she honestly does, but telling her still brings a bought of nervousness that roils in her stomach. “We think… we think we’re looking at our past lives.”

Kate looks at her for the longest time, eyebrows bunched together, a small frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That is… not what I was expecting.”

“How do you think I feel?” Max takes in a breath to try and still the energy buzzing inside of her. She feels like a live wire, electrified and ready to discharge. “I don’t know how this all fits together I just know…. Well, basically what I’ve told you. Which isn’t a lot. But we do know that our previous selves were in Arcadia Bay when the storm hit, and that’s it.”

Kate blinks once, twice, three times, tilts her head ever so slightly to the side. “Did you survive? That storm was devastating.”

Max offers up her hands and shrugs. “We don’t know. All we have is a direction to look in.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ll be much help, but whatever you need me for, I’m here, be it research or support.”

“I might actually recruit you for some brain picking later, but in the meantime, any extra set of eyes looking for clues is a godsend. I think the more people we can have looking at this form every angle, the more stuff we might be able to find.”

The smile returns to Kate’s face. “That I can do. Whatever I find that will be of use, I’ll send your way.”

“You are a fantastic friend, you know that? Anyone else would’ve probably run far and fast from all this crazy.”

Kate laughs. “They warned us college would be weird. But I won’t leave my friends when they need me, no matter what’s going on. I hope if I ever need to, they’ll do the same for me.”

“Always. After this, anything life throws at you or me will seem small time.” Max leans back, feeling a little more grounded. She can still feel the buzzing in her fingertips, a mixture of nervousness and excitement, but talking about it to someone outside of it all helps.

They finish the test of the meal, talking and joking about more mundane things, like classes and tests and little anecdotes from the last few days. Everything feels normal for a few fleeting moments and Max relishes it. They part ways, Kate agreeing to do some digging on her own.

Max returns to her room and settles in for an early night. She does a bit of homework, just to stay on top of things, knowing full well she’s been cutting it down to the wire, and sometimes outright forgetting assignments. After a while, she calls it good, watches a bit of Netflix, then shuts off her lights and closes her eyes. She falls asleep fairly quickly, and for a while, everything is calm and dreamless. Until that familiar earth shattering noise filters through, louder and louder. She hears window breaking, wires snapping, the sound of metal crumpling like paper. She is freezing. And then she sees flashes. A world on fire. A building, reduced to rubble. Bodies. So many bodies. Her heart contracts, stuffs itself in her throat. She wants to run, but she is moving forward. She has to go. She has to fix this. She has to go back. She has to go back. She’s the only one who can.

Back… back where?

Max wakes with a start with tears in her eyes and she lets them fall. She clutches at her chest. So, that was it? That was life on the ground in those final terrifying moments. Did she watch those people die?

There is a series of sharp, insistent knocks on her door and Max startles. She quickly rubs at her eyes and hops off bed, her flipping on a light as she does. She opens the door slowly, peers into the hallway to see a tired but happy Chloe bouncing on her feet on the other end.

Chloe lights up when she sees her. “Sorry. Did I wake you? Sorry! But I was up really late doing some snooping and I- woah, hey!”

Max tries to keep it together, but the moment she sees Chloe, a deep, aching sadness wells up inside and the tears start again. Chloe opens her arms in offering and Max falls into them, buries her face in Max’s shoulders. She doesn’t know where this is coming from, but it feels like a broken dam. That dream fucked her up, certainly, those bits and pieces, but this ran deeper. This felt bigger. Older. Like a sadness that cut through generations. Max isn’t really sure how to describe it, not that she can do much speaking anyway, but the feeling doesn’t seem like hers. It’s as if someone shoved all their pain and agony and sadness inside her body and left her to deal with it.

Chloe, for her part, stands there, rubbing gentle circles across Max’s back. Dimly, Max is aware of the occasional shuffle of feet behind them, straggling students fumbling back to their rooms. 

Max pulls back and looks up at Chloe, blinking away tears. She lifts an arm between them, wiping at her eyes with the palm of her hand.

Chloe stands there, puzzled. “Everything okay? What happened?”

Max takes her by the hand, tugging her inside the room. Chloe closes the door behind her as Max falls into her desk chair with a heavy sigh. Chloe regards her with concern from across the room before stepping closer. After a moment to collect her thoughts, Max recounts the dream fragments as best she can. It hurts a lot less, like this, as the tidal wave of emotion recedes.

“Oh man, that’s fucked up,” Chloe says after Max finishes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just… I don’t know.” Max dries her eyes one last time. “Like, I feel bad for all those people, and knowing that I’m seeing actual people who died in that storm, it’s awful but… I’m not really feeling it, if that makes sense. It’s her emotions, I think. I’m feeling how she felt.”

Chloe exhales loudly. “God, I can’t imagine. Being on the ground for that? Seeing all that destruction and death.”

Max hums a response. She sits ups, resting her elbows on her legs. “Is it okay if we stop talking about this, for a bit?”

“Of course!”

“What did you come here to show me?”

“Oh!” Chloe pulls out her phone. “I was doing some snooping, trying to find past me, see if I even went to that school. And I did! I found her!” She hands her phone to Max. “We were just looking at the wrong time.”

Max looks at the phone on Chloe’s phone. It takes her a second, but she does find Chloe, who looks remarkably like she does now. Long hair, not dyed and no tattoos, different clothes. But still unmistakably her.

“This was a few years before your photo. It was the latest I could find. I don’t know if that means I was older than you, or maybe I transferred or what but I was there.” Chloe talks as if doing so makes it real, calls it into existence.

Max hands the phone back. “That’s remarkable Chloe. Every last clue helps.”

Chloe stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her hoodie. “It’s strange, looking at it. To know that that was me. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I’m still trying to process it all honesty,” Max says, leaning her head back to look at the ceiling. It’s dirty and cracked, with a few doodles from previous residents. “Sometimes I’m okay with it. Other days, it’s overwhelming.”

Chloe gives a low, humorless laugh. “Feels like we’re being told something important, huh? Just can’t figure out what it is.” She sits down on the ground, leans back against the small dresser underneath Max’s bed. “I want to know what it is. I want to know everything, but seeing you tonight, it made me realize that knowing everything might mean carrying around past traumas. Maybe that’s the price of knowing.”

“Maybe.” If Max stares hard enough, she can see shapes in the dappled ridges of the ceiling. Sea shores and light houses and buildings and faces. “But even if we wanted to, could we stop this?”

“Probably not. The lid is cracked, and whatever’s inside Pandora’s Box is coming out, whether we want it to or not.”

Max reaches a hand out without thinking, and when she feels the cool brush of Chloe’s fingertips wrap around, she lifts her head and looks at her. It’s something neither of them want to admit, but something dark lurks beneath the surface of these memories, and they can both feel it. Something inherently wrong. The deeper they dig, the closer they get to finding it, and Max has a gut feeling it’s something they would rather leave buried. But they can’t avoid it, going on the way they are. Its wrapped up in the answers they seek. “We’re going to be okay,” Max says, searching Chloe’s eyes and seeing the same uncertainty and worry inside of them.

“Of course we are.” Chloe answers. “I’ve got my partner in time with me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry y'all, I write slow as shit

A few days later, Max finds herself at the house of one of her professors. He had invited his first year photography students over for a small party, hoping to encourage them to get to know each other. To Max’s surprise, quite a few people had shown up. Max herself arrives late, and opens the door to a room full of people. Max squashes her initial urge to run, and makes her way through the crowd to the kitchen. She only knows the people here in passing from class, but thankfully, most of them seem too engrossed in their own conversations to pay her any mind. Max nabs herself a soda and some cookies and makes a beeline for the nearest unoccupied room.

Most of the doors are locked, but when she tries the handle on the door at the end of the hallway, it opens, and Max steps into an office space. The light is already on, and the walls are lined with pictures. There is a tall bookshelf to the left of the desk, which, upon closer snooping, is filled with books from all kinds of photographers, some of which were almost impossible to find. Max wants to steal them off the shelf and stare at them for hours, but there is only so far she’ll go to feed her addiction, and stealing from her professors definitely crosses that line. Instead, she turns and looks at the framed photographs on the wall. She briefly wonders if her professor took these, but most of them have different styles to them, so she assumes they’re from multiple people.

One photo in particular catches Max’s eye and she moves closer to it. It’s a simple piece, a black and white photograph of the ocean, with a faraway boat in the background, and a cloudy sky with just a hint of sun peeking through in disjointed rays, and a single floating rose in the foreground. It’s a beautiful piece in its own right, but something about it calls to Max, resonates somewhere deep within her chest and a pang of longing shoots through her, whitehot and burning. A longing to go home, to a home that no longer exists.

“Exquisite, isn't it?” Comes a voice from behind her.

Max nearly jumps out of her skin, and she barely contains a scream of surprise, whirling around to see her professor, standing in the doorway of the study.

He holds his hands up. “My apologies, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Max waves a hand and coughs into her elbow, having nearly choked on her cookie. It takes her a few moments to recover, and when she does, she says, “It’s okay, I’m good. I’m sorry, am I not supposed to be in here? I got lost looking at all the photos.”

Her professor smiles and moves into the room. “No need to worry. I trust you not to cause any trouble.” He stops just short of her, nods at the photo she had been looking at. “Bit ironic, that you were drawn to this one.”

Max turns her head slightly and frowns. “Why’s that?”

“It’s a Caulfield original. Her ability to convey emotion through everyday images was second to none.”

Max feels her heart stop, then drop down into her stomach, and when it starts beating again, it’s with ice in her veins. “I’m sorry, who took this photo?”

Her professor looks at her and smiles. “Max Caulfield. Well, Caulfield-Price. Probably not your namesake, but a photographer, just like you wish to be.”

Max swallows hard, a million questions running through her mind, all vying to be spoken. When she talks, her voice is thicker than she’d like, and her hands shake. She hopes he can’t see. “Did you… know her?”

“In passing. I met her a few times. Remarkable woman, she was. She and her wife, both, actually.” Her professor looks at the photo, and his expression shifts, a look of sadness overtaking his features. “Shame to have lost them rather young.” He pauses, before looking back at Max. “Did you not know you had a famous counterpart?”

Max shakes her head, unable to form words. Her professor smiles once more, and he moves past her, to the bookshelf, and begins to browse. “I’m a little surprised,” he says as he searches through the books, finger brushing the titles as he looks. “But, then again, she is a little niche.” He makes a small noise of triumph, and pulls a book off the shelf. He hands it over.

Max sets her food down immediately, brushing her fingers off on her jeans before taking the book in her hands. It’s cold and heavy.

“Go ahead, sit down.” Her professor says, leaning against his desk.

Max does, hardly registering his words at all. She runs her fingers across the cover, and her veins sing in anticipation. The whole room narrows to a pinprick, everything else fading away until it is just her and the book. A link to the past. Her past. This is the closest glimpse she’s ever had. Max opens the cover with trembling hands, sees it’s signed and she has to stop herself from brushing a thumb across the messy scrawl. Max turns to the next page, the first photo. A lighthouse. A different one. Max can hear the rushing in her ears, wind whipping and it gets louder and louder and she swears she sees the picture move, the waves crashing and then-

“Hey, I’ll tell you what.” Her professor's voice breaks her out of the moment and Max whips her head up to meet his face so fast it hurts. He gives her a strange look, but says nothing. “I’ll lend you the book on two conditions. One: you return it to me in the same condition it’s in now. And two: you don’t start to feel trapped in her shadow just because you share a name. You’re not her, Max. You can be your own person with your own signature style.”

It takes everything inside of Max not to laugh at that statement, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “Thank you, sir. I- I don’t know what to say.”

Her professor gives a genuine, kind smile and pushes off the desk. “You don’t have to say anything. Feel free to stay here a bit and browse. I trust you won’t make off with my collection. Photos often speak to us. I’m curious what she’ll say to you.” He gives her a nod and exits the room, partially closing the door behind him.

After he leaves, Max spends the rest of the party looking through the book. The photographs are stunning, there’s no doubt about that. But underneath it all, there’s a theme, an undercurrent of sadness and regret to them, weaving together to form a soft narrative Max falls into. Knowing what she knows, feeling what she felt, it’s easy to see the meaning behind them. It stirs a longing deep within Max, to return to a simpler time that was never hers, a past she only shared. It was clear her past-self agonized over what had happened to her home town, yet there was also the presence of hope, of rebirth, of moving on and healing.

Max pauses on one particular photo that makes her smile. It’s a photo of Chloe, past Chloe, lounging on a bed, head resting on her forearm as she held an open book in her other hand, just off the bed. She is reading, sheets tangled across her waist. She looks… peaceful. There are crinkles at the edges of her eyes, a hint of gray in the lines of her hair but she seems happy. A moment captured in time. It’s so intimate, existing simply for the Chloe and Max of years past, yet captured here forever. Max looks at the picture, and understands. After everything that happened to Max Caulfield, with her camera, she could enshrine the things she loved forever within film. In this book, in this photo, that Chloe lived on, content and happy. Forever she would remain that way. “She did live on,” Max says, softly. “She’s here, with me. We’re here.”

It’s a strange feeling, looking at the book. Max knows it’s her, understands that she’s looking at the work of her previous self, but at the same time, it feels so far away, like an entirely different person. Max wants to talk to her, somehow, not even to get answers, but to show her that there was good in all of this. That even after all that pain, somehow, somewhere, there was hope. It’s as if she’s split between two worlds, hers and the other Max’s. In one, it’s her past self, her history. In the other, she’s just Max, only Max, endeared to a woman who holds her name. Perhaps that’s the way it looks on the outside. Would anyone believe her if she told them?

Max leaves the party early, clutching the book like a lifeline. She fights the urge to run right to Chloe’s room and show her. This is something she wants to surprise her with. In just a few short days, she’s going to meet up with Kate and Chloe, and they’re going to compare notes, discuss any findings they might have. Boy does Max have a bombshell to drop. The idea makes her oddly giddy inside.

Back at the dorm, armed with knowledge, Max goes on a deep dive through the internet. Now that she knows what to look for, it’s easy. Maxine Caulfield-Price. Born: September 21st, 1958. Died: May 17th, 2002. Not even 44 years old. God, that was so young. 

Max looks at the date of her death, double checks, triple checks. That’s not right. That shouldn’t be right. She died a year after Max was born. If she’s her past self, shouldn’t she have passed before Max was born?

Max digs a little deeper. Chloe Price. Born: March 11th, 1957. Died: September 23rd, 1999.

What started as a small furrow in Max brow deepens into a cleft, tugging hard enough it hurts. She and Chloe were both born the same year. If her past-self died well before she was born… what did that mean? What did any of it mean?

Max always thought it was supposed to happen immediately. Did it take time, to do whatever had happened to them? Was it coincidence she and Chloe were born the same year, or something more? The more she thinks, the more she realizes how little she actually understands.

Max lets out a heavy sigh. She knew this wasn’t going to be an easy process, but she never imagined it’d come with so much _homework_. But all she can really do is gather information. She can’t possibly piece it all together herself. At the very least, it gives her an excuse to make a crazy wall like she’s always wanted. That brings a small to her face. Max crabs the cork board hanging from her wall, taking off pictures and notes that had been gathering throughout the year and setting them aside. She isn’t sure if she can get any string for full affect, but it’s somewhere to start, at the very least

Max spends the next few days gathering and recording every piece of information she can get her hands on, no matter how innocuous it seems. By the end of it all, she’s exhausted, and feels a lot like a stalker for a pair of dead women, but it’s more information than she’s ever had, so it has to amount to at least a few steps in the right direction.

The day of the meeting arrives, and Max shows up to the conference room in the library a little late and a lot out of breath from sprinting up the stairs.

Chloe and Kate both turn to look at her, board in hand, and share a glance.

“Whatcha got there?” Chloe asks.

“Gimme- a sec-“ Max manages between breaths. She shrugs off her backpack onto the nearest chair and moves to the end of the table where both Kate and Chloe can see. “I have - oh my god that was a lot of stairs - I have so much to say.”

Chloe throws out a hand in a grand sweeping gesture. “By all means.”

Max takes a good few gulps of air before she begins. She picks up her board and sets it on the table with a dramatic thump. She points to a printed picture of her past self and proclaims, “May I introduce you to world renowned photographer, Maxine Caulfield-Price!”

“Hey Max, quick question, what the fuck is that board?”

“It’s a crazy wall, I’ve seen a lot of detective shows, it’s not important.” Max points emphatically at the picture to get her back on track.

Chloe holds up her hands. “Right. Past you. So you found information?”

“Tons!”

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! Wait. You said Caulfield-Price. Were we _married_?”

“Yes. Well, not in the eyes of the law, obviously, but yes.” In hindsight, Max probably should have led with that, or at least given a little run down into the past to ease them into it all. “Past Max used a hyphenated last name as an act of defiance.”

“That… is so fucking cute.” Chloe beams from ear to ear. “And look at your past self, stickin’ it to the system. You got a rebellious streak in you somewhere.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss Price. In a previous life, you got into a lot of trouble.”

Chloe’s eyes light up and she leans forward, urging Max to continue. Max launches into her findings in earnest, moving around the board, emphasizing pictures and news articles, listing every piece of information she has. Chloe is delighted by her past punk self, tattooed, chainsmoking, motorcycle riding. She and Kate both thumb through the book of photographs as Max talks. When Max finishes her whirlwind speech, they both sit there in silence for a moment.

Kate breaks the quiet. “So, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about them?”

“No,” Max says, leaning against the table. “Nothing. They survived an extraordinary event early in their lives, but other than that, nothing. Just two women living their lives together.”

Chloe glances up from the book. “Well, we knew this probably wasn’t going to be easy. But at least now we know who we were.”

Max hums low in her throat. “Well, there was something mildly curious, but I suppose I don’t understand enough to comment much on it.”

“What’s that?”

Max shifts her weight to the other foot, crossing her arms. “When they were born. And when they died.”

“You were oddly silent on that front.” Chloe says.

“Yeah, well… okay. Chloe Price was born in ‘57, died in ‘99. Maxine Caulfield was born in ‘58, died in ‘02.”

“Aww, I died before you. That’s kinda sad. What got me?”

“Cancer.”

Chloe leans back with a frown. “Well, fuck.” She pauses, then says, “What about you?”

Max shrugs. “Undetermined. Died in my sleep. Probably a heart attack, but the coroner couldn’t make a definite conclusion.”

Chloe’s frown deepens. “A heartattack so young? Not unheard of, but still curious. So, we both died extraordinarily young.”

“Yes. And at different times. But you and I were born the same year, right?” When Chloe nods in affirmation, Max continues. “But my past-self died _after_ I was born. You, I can understand. I read up on reincarnation, I always thought it was an immediate thing but it isn’t, or at least, it doesn’t have to be. It can take time. But how do you reincarnate as someone who’s still alive?”

She and Chloe both turn to look at Kate, who hesitates, before saying, “Well, I’m no expert on religion. I’ve only taken a class or two, but, yes, Max is correct. Different religions have varying ideas, but it’s a process. It doesn’t have to happen right away, and it doesn’t always have to be a person. However, I’m not sure it’s possible to reincarnate, as Max said, as someone who is still alive.”

“That’s what I figured. It doesn’t make any sense, unless…” Max shakes her head. “No. That’s not it.”

“What?” Chloe asks.

“Well, you see, I’m adopted.” Max settles down into the nearest chair. “No one knows who my birth parents are, someone just found me on the street and took me to the hospital, and then I went to foster care. They gave an estimation on my age, but obviously no one knows the exact date. But there’s no way they were off by an entire year or more. That’s not possible.”

“No, it’s not.” Chloe’s voice is oddly quiet, a strange tone to it. She’s staring at Max like she’s never seen her before. “Max, where are you from?”

“Maine. Why?”

Chloe rubs at her face. “Just… wondering. Because I have exactly the same story. Adopted, found on the street, no record of my birth parents. That’s exactly what happened to me.”

The air leaves the room in an instant, replaced by a vacuum in which no one moves, dares to breath. Max and Chloe look at each other, a thousand unspoken questions hanging between them. The moment is weighted, heavy. Max can feel it settle in her chest. Another link between them, but what did it mean? Everything they thought they knew, thrown out the window again. The world, turned upside down. Would they ever find solid footing? Could they? It seems as if every time they think they have an answer, someone or something pulls the rug out from under them.

It is Kate who eventually breaks the suffocating silence. “What does this mean?”

Max blinks, coming back into herself, and looks away. All her joy at playing private eye has withered, replaced by cold dread that trickles across her veins. Not once can she catch a break. Have a moment to enjoy her hard work before it’s shattered. “I don’t know.”

Chloe rubs at her mouth. It’s rare she’s speechless, but for once she seems utterly shaken. After a few failed attempts, she finally says, “This can’t be coincidence.”

“If… if it’s not reincarnation, then what is it?” Max asks, more to fill the room with sound then out of any real need for an answer.

Chloe shrugs her shoulders helplessly, her eyes briefly finding Max’s once more, and for the first time in the months Max has known her, she looks… scared. This whole thing had been one large puzzle, and Chloe had approached it with a haughty confidence, as if there was nothing in this world she couldn’t figure out. Maybe there wasn’t. But this was an extraordinary circumstance. Chloe liked things she could understand, could see was real, be it a chemical reaction or a theory in a book. This, however, was so much more than that. This, they may not be able to understand. And that frightens Chloe.

Max reaches out over the table, curls her fingers around Chloe’s thumb, and the world goes black. Max awakens with a start surrounded by darkness and silence. She rises to her knees, then her feet, arms out, feeling for something, anything in the inky black nothingness around her. It’s cold here, downright frigid, and Max can feel it seep down into her bones. Even with her rapidly beating heart she can’t suppress the shivers. She calls out into the void, for Chloe, for Kate, for anyone. Where is she?

Max grows more frantic, panic welling up inside, and she moves a little faster, less cautious, looking for anything. She doesn’t care if she trips or hurts herself as long as she can find something in this nothingness, but she is alone. Even her cries for help seem deafened and dampened, swallowed up inside the gloom. What the fuck is going on? She’s close to screaming now, the panic overwhelming her. It feels like an eternity that she’s been wandering inside this void, and still she has found nothing. Max falls to her knees, puts her head in her hands. How is she meant to get out of here? How the hell did she get here? Where was here?

Time passes in a viscous haze, perhaps slow, perhaps fast, but an eternity later, Max sees a faint light trickle through the slots in her fingers. Her head shoots up, and she sees, ahead of her, a single blue butterfly, radiant and beautiful, glowing with the loveliest sapphire light. Max stares at it as it flutters to and fro, but it’s the first sign of life she’s seen here. First sign of anything. She feels a pull somewhere inside of her and she rises to unsteady feet, taking one step towards it, then two, three, until she’s closing the distance, arm outstretched towards it in an almost unconscious way. The light grows brighter as she nears, almost blinding after spending so long in total darkness. The butterfly shifts and soars, but never strays too far away. Max can almost touch it, it’s centimeters away, she wants to, needs to and then, from seemingly everywhere and nowhere, a voice yells, “Stop!”

Max startles awake, sitting upright in a flash, narrowly avoiding colliding heads with the person next to her, who leans out of the way just in time. The room is bright, too bright, and Max squints against the harshness, hands coming up to block the light.

There’s a hand on her shoulder, and gentle voice that says, “It’s okay Max, you’re safe. You’re in the nurse's office.”

As everything comes back into focus, eyes adjusting to a world of light, Max starts to take in the room around her. She’s never been over by the nurse’s area before, never met any of the nurses on staff, but there’s nowhere else this could be. It certainly isn’t the hospital. “What- what happened?” Max asks, blinking against the fluorescence. Her sudden jump from horizontal to upright hits her, and she feels a bit lightheaded.

The nurse eases her back down onto the bed, and once she’s settled, says, “Your friends called campus security and brought you here. They said your nose started bleeding and you passed out. When you wouldn’t wake up, they made the call. You’ve been out for the better part of an hour. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. My head hurts. Was I really out that long?”

“Yes, you were. Much longer and we would have had you transported to emergency care. Has this happened before?”

Max gives her head a slow shake. 

“No underlying conditions? Have you been feeling sick as of late?”

Max shakes her head again. Even if she wanted to tell the nurse about everything that has been going on, none of it would explain what had just happened. “No, I’ve just… not been getting a lot of sleep. I think the exhaustion caught up with me.”

The nurse clicks her tongue. “Unfortunately, not uncommon on campuses. You kids are strong, but not invulnerable. I don’t want to pull the nagging card, but you must remember to take care of yourself. That comes above all else.”

Max holds up her hands. “I know, I know. I will. Am I free to go?”

“If you feel well enough, yes. I’ve found nothing alarming about your condition. You’re the picture of health. If anything comes up, please come back, or go to urgent care.”

Max sits up, slower this time, and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the ground with a soft tap as she slides off. She thanks the nurse for all her help, and leaves the room, a bit unsteady, but no worse for the wear. Outside the room, sitting in a chair on her phone, is Chloe, who jumps to her feet when she sees her, shoving her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and speeding over. She hesitates briefly, before enveloping Max in a gentle hug. Max falls into it, enjoying the sensation after such an indefinite time surrounded by nothingness.

Chloe pulls back, searching her face. “I’m glad you’re okay, you had us scared shitless!”

“What happened to me?”

“I don’t know! You grabbed my hand, and then bam! You were out like a light, you hit the table before I could grab you and you wouldn’t wake up. Your nose was bleeding like crazy. They had to carry you out of the library. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Max nods. “My head hurts, but nothing some ibuprofen can’t fix. I really wanna blow my nose.”

“Gross.” Chloe pulls an exaggerated face, but moves to Max’s side. “Let’s get you back. You’re taking it easy tonight.”

Max doesn’t argue, and together they make their way back to the dorm. Once inside her room, Max sits on her bed for a brief moment, before sliding sideways, until she is lying on her pillows. “Hey, Chloe?”

Chloe looks up from the edge of the bed, where she had been searching the mini fridge for a bottle of water. “Hmm? What’s up?”

“When I… was out, I wasn’t unconscious. At least, I’m not really sure what I was, but I was somewhere.”

Chloe closes the door and rises to her feet, standing a good foot taller than Max’s prone form. “Where were you?”

“I don’t know. Nowhere. I was just surrounded by nothingness. It was pitch black, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and there was nothing. And I mean nothing. I wandered for what felt like hours and I didn’t run into anything. I screamed but no one was there, until suddenly I saw a butterfly, with this… strange blue glow. I went to go touch it, but someone told me to stop, and I woke up.”

“That doesn’t really seem like a dream.”

Max props herself up on one arm. “I don’t know what it was. But that voice… it was mine.”

Chloe regards her carefully. “You told yourself to stop?”

“I guess? I don’t know if it was an inner voice or my past self or what but it was _my_ voice. I didn’t see anything, I woke up just after that.”

“Maybe they wanted to talk to you?”

Max shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. But being in there was terrifying. I didn’t know if I could get out. I started to lose my sense of self.”

“That sounds horrifying, I’m so sorry.”

“I hope it never happens again. I don’t know what it meant or why it happened but I really don’t care, as long as I don’t have to end up there again.”

Chloe reaches out and pushes a few loose strands of hair out of Max’s face. Her fingertips are cold from the bottle, and they leave a trail of water droplets across Max’s temple. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, no worse than usual, given the circumstances.” Max looks up at Chloe. “How ‘bout you? That was a lot of information to process, even before I went comatose.”

Chloe’s eyes are telling, even in the incandescent light. They may have only known each other for months this go around, but they have a lifetime of reading each other hidden just below the surface, a lifetime of understanding the things left unsaid. “I'm... neutral, I guess,” she answers. “Nothing about this fazes me anymore, which is scary when I say it out loud. The cycle of answers and ten thousand questions, I expect it. Finding clues scattered across the board and no idea how to connect them. We have the fabric, we’re missing the thread. Something fundamental ties this altogether and until we find it, we’re going in circles.”

Max hums in agreement. Ordinarily, this kind of talk would sink her heart and roil in her stomach, but at present she’s too exhausted to care about much of anything. “What’s wrong with the picture. That’s what we’re looking for.”

“Yeah.” Chloe falls silent after that, and a few moments later, remembers her original goal, and hands Max the water bottle, which she gratefully accepts. Relative quiet descends upon them as Max takes a long drink, and Chloe looks off into the distance, mind occupied by other thoughts. After a minute or so, she glances back down at Max, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Hey, I’ll tell you what, why don’t we get our minds off this? You and I skipped a good few steps in the relationship ladder, so how do you feel about backing it up for a date?”

Max can feel her face heating up. “A date?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking… dinner and a movie?”

“That sounds, uh, really good actually.”

Chloe grins, pumps the air with her fist in the air in little victory dance. “Score. Date with cute girl acquired.”

Max laughs in spite of everything that’s happened. “You’re lucky I already like you.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “You’re lucky I have your type pegged. I can turn on the charm whenever I want.”

“And turn off the nerdiness? I have my doubts.”

Chloe scoffs, holds her hand to her chest in feigned affront. “I’ll have you know I charmed the pants off of you 50 years ago.”

“You were also a sexy outlaw biker 50 years ago.”

“Ah, but chemistry degrees keep the lights on, so how ‘bout that?” Chloe crosses her arms over her chest, sticks her tongue out as she stands victorious. “Checkmate this Chloe.”

Max chuckles at that, reaching out a hand towards Chloe. “Point made.” When Chloe takes hold, Max gives her arm a tug, pulling her down into a kiss that Chloe melts into. It’s soft and tender, and when she pulls back, Max says, “I like this Chloe too.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then.” Chloe regards her with a starry-eyed gaze, and it makes Max flush, but it also feels like Chloe is looking right through her.

What does she think, when she looks at her? Does she see plain old boring Max, or something more? Something else? It wasn’t as if this was normal college romance. It’s not like they were together. They were still trying to navigate it all. Max leans forward, planting a kiss atop Chloe’s wrist. “Stay with me tonight?” She asks.

“Of course! Of course.” Chloe hesitates outside the bed. “Would it be weird if I…?” She trails off, but gestures to her jeans.

“Oh, uh, no.” Max glances down, before quickly looking back up toward the ceiling. “If that’s more comfortable, to sleep in,” she finishes, hoping Chloe doesn’t notice how strangled her voice sounds.

Max keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling as Chloe shucks her shoes, socks and jeans. A few seconds later, Max feels a dip in the mattress, and she shifts back towards the wall. Chloe climbs up into the bed, sliding down under the covers and rolling onto her side. Max takes a few breaths to still her heart before rolling over to face her. They lay in an easy quiet for some time, Chloe’s eyes beginning to droop, before they close entirely. Max does her best not to disturb her, but with the combined body heat of two people under the covers, it soon becomes unbearable, and Max sits up, tossing off the covers and shedding her pants. She falls back into the mattress with a huff.

“I can see the motor in your brain smoking from all the work,” Chloe says.

“I’m sorry. You were sleeping, I was trying to be quiet.”

“It okay. What's on your mind?”

“Us,” Max says, the words more an exhale than anything. “It can’t be coincidence that we’re both orphans with the same story, right? You said it yourself.”

“I mean, if it was just that, I’d probably dismiss it. It’d be weird, but nothing to freak out about. With everything else we know? No. It’s not a coincidence.”

“Just once I want information that actually _connects_ to something. I’m tired of getting different pieces of the puzzle that don’t fit. I hate it.” Max runs a hand through her hair and lets out a humorless chuckle. “I’m sorry. I keep saying the same thing over and over.”

“If it’s bugging you, it’s bugging you. Plus you’re voicing everything I’m feeling too. You don’t have to apologize for things that get under your skin.”

“I know, but I just… keep picking at it and picking at it, it’s got to get annoying.”

“Coming from you? Never. Besides, better to let it out then to stand up in class one day and scream.”

“I don’t know, this is a college campus. I wouldn’t be the first and I won’t be the last.”

Chloe laughs at that. “Do it after a test, no one will know the difference.”

The sound pulls a smile from deep inside. “Only if you join me, I’m not making a total fool of myself.”

“You’re on. I may look calm and collected, but the closer we get to finals, the more I want to scream. You know, I’ll even do it right now, ‘cause I fuckin’ want to.” Chloe opens her mouth, a shrill sound escaping before Max clamps her hands over the lower half of Chloe’s face, choking off the noise before it can grow too loud.

“Shhh! People are sleeping!” Beneath her palms, she feels Chloe’s tongue and she immediately recoils, wiping her hands on her sheets. “Ew! What are you, five?”

“Nope, I’m a grown ass woman and you can kiss my ass.”

“I’ll kick you out of my room.”

“But I’m such good company.”

Max rolls onto her back, then her side, facing away from Chloe. “You’re a menace to society, is what you are.”

“It’s who I’ve always been.” Chloe shifts closer, until she’s flush against Max back. She throws an arm over Max’s side, and when she speaks, her breath is hot against Max neck. “And I think you kinda like it.”

Max suppresses a shiver, and grips the sheets a little tighter. “Maybe so, but not when you're being gross.”

The comment hangs in the air, suspended by silence, and Max wonders if Chloe can feel her reactions, if she’ll mention it, but she simply laughs, leaning back slightly so she’s not shouting into Max’s ear. A moment later, Max joins, far more subdued, heart thumping in her chest. One thing at a time. 

Chloe shifts behind her, forehead pressed between Max shoulder blades. She has to speak up to be heard. “Much as I love talking with you, we should probably get some sleep. I think your brain needs a rest.”

“No argument here,” Max says, shifting in bed to get more comfortable. “Goodnight Chloe.”

“’Night Max.”

Silence blankets the room once more, broken only by soft breathing. Max tries to still her mind. It twists and turns, thoughts and ideas drifting in and out, but at some point in the night, sleep claims her. It is not quiet or blissful, but it is familiar, and when Max awakens in the early morning, groggy and sluggish, limbs refusing to cooperate, a sharp, stabbing pain in her neck, she isn’t surprised. 

Max blinks a few times, then looks over. Chloe is sitting upright next to her, hands on her forehead and eyes screwed shut. She must sense Max’s movement, because she says, voice strained, “I fucking hate this dream.”

“Getting shot in the head doesn’t usually make for-“ Max pauses, then sits up, forcing her body to cooperate against its will. It’s slow going and certainly not as dramatic as it could have been, but eventually, she gets there. “Wait a minute. Something's not right.”

“Are you - fuck, ow - okay?” Chloe asks, a little breathless, forcing out her words through clenched teeth.

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s the dream. Your part of the dream. You get shot in the head, right?”

“Right between my damn eyes.” Chloe’s voice is a little less constricted, face a little less scrunched as the pain begins to subside.

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Because we know you survived well beyond the storm. So there’s no way you were shot and killed that week, right?”

Chloe’s eyes slowly open, and she looks at Max with a half-lidded gaze, hands still pressed against her forehead. “You’re right. I… never even gave it any thought. If it’s not a memory, then what is it?”

“I- I don’t know. A clue?” Max bunches the bedsheets between her hands and looks away. “Why can’t I just remember? There’s got to be something important I’m not seeing.”

“We’ll get there. You’re getting flashes, so that’s a start.” Chloe slips a hand over her, and the sudden warmth makes Max glance back over, at the easy smile on Chloe’s face. “If it jogs your memory, I can kiss you silly.”

Max nudges her with her shoulder. “Sometimes I wish you’d do it just to help me forget.”

“That can just as easily be arranged. But seriously, we’ll get there. I know it all feels like this is resting on your shoulders but it’s not, you got me and Kate in your corner. It’ll come to you.”

“What if it doesn’t though? What if we stay in this - this limbo, forever? What if we never figure out anything beyond this?”

Chloe contemplates the thought for a moment, before she says, “Then we’ll cross that bridge if we ever come to it.”

Max isn’t convinced, but there’s not much she can do about it. It isn’t as if she can force herself to remember, to peel back the fog and the clutter that blocks her dreams and see any clearer. But the idea that it could take years to get any clarity, or that it might never happen at all, is terrifying. And infuriating. She can’t do this forever, can’t put her life in stasis while she waits for information. And she certainly can’t juggle both at once. She’s barely keeping her head above water with school.

Chloe’s smile falls away. “It probably sounds like I’m trying to placate you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. But I’m not mad at you. You’re in the same spot as me.”

“Caught in the middle of a reincarnation mystery?”

“Something like that.”

“Kinda sucks huh? Look at it objectively, it’s amazing. Actually experience it and… not so much.”

“Better on paper, that’s for sure.” Max leans against Chloe, tucks her head beneath her chin. “I think it should be a bad movie.”

“Hmm?”

“Our date. I wanna see whatever movie sounds the dumbest.”

“I suppose that can be arranged, just for you. Sci-fi snob.”

“How’d you know I like sci-fi?”

“Huh.” Chloe hums low in her throat. “I don’t know. Past life quick cheat?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I did say we skipped a lot of steps. It’s not like you don’t have some hidden information about me tucked away, so don’t pout.”

Max nudges her in the ribs with her elbow. “No I don’t.”

“Bullshit. Try me. First thing that comes to mind.”

“A truck. You drive a shitty beat up truck.”

“Nope. Don’t have a car. Next?”

“Uh, you’re a smoker?”

Chloe makes a face. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“A nosy one, right now.”

“Oh c’mon, one more?”

Max heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Uh, hmm.” A thought comes to her mind, one she doesn’t recognize. “Rachel Amber?”

The smile that had taken up residence on Chloe’s face falters, then disappears completely, replaced by a bewildered expression. “How do you know my ex?”

“I don’t- I mean- I never- I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sorry for what? It was a mutual end on both our parts. We’re still friends.”

“She’s…” Max hesitates, then looks away. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Chloe openly laughs at that. “No she’s not, she’s in L.A. you weirdo. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Rachel… Amber…” Max stares at the ground. Her mind feels fuzzy, far away, as if her thoughts are trapped behind a cotton wall. She rubs at her hands. They feel gritty, as if caked in mud and dirt, she can feel it beneath her fingernails. Her knees are cold, there are jagged rocks and broken glass pressing against her skin. Her heart swells inside her chest, up into her throat. She knows the answer but she dreads the confirmation. She knows. She knows. She’s… “Dead.” Max blinks and the feeling is gone. She looks down at her hands, turns them around. Clean. She looks at Chloe, who stares back at her with furrowed brows and a deeply concerned expression.

Max swallows past the dryness in her mouth before she can speak, her words slow and careful. “She’s dead. Not your Rachel.” She extends an arm and points at her desk, where the photography book sits at the top of the pile. Her photography book. “Theirs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to kick my ass to make sure I actually update this with the next chapter.


End file.
